


A Formal Arrangement

by Requ (Etude)



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 144,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etude/pseuds/Requ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Elsa and Anna are the heiresses of different kingdoms and are married as a result of a betrothal arranged years prior. No incest, but definitely Elsanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a Tumblr prompt (that was not addressed to me, but I took inspiration from). The prompt is posted at the end note.

There'd been some debate among Arendelle's advisors prior to the wedding about who the groom ought to be, but it was unanimously decided that Queen Elsa would be given that she was simply taller. She also had a more regal bearing that complimented well as groom to Princess Anna's bride and it went well, didn't it, that Arendelle, being the larger nation, would be the masculine to the smaller Corona. There was some lamenting among the public that Queen Elsa would not appear in the beautiful gown that her mother had worn before her, but it was a small sacrifice. A royal wedding was going to take place and the celebration that would follow! And all the fine foods and wines that would be distributed! It was all very exciting indeed.

 

Queen Elsa came dressed handsomely in the same uniform the previous king had worn, with alterations of course, to suit her slighter frame. There'd been some worrying that she might even cut her magnificent white-gold hair to suit the role, but that fear was assuaged when she appeared at the alter with her mane tamed into a braid wrapped into a bun. Queen Elsa cut a very dashing figure, her white gloves contrasting with the dark military uniform, gleaming  medals, red sash and silver sword at her hip.

 

A few eyed her in surprised admiration, especially those who'd never attended a wedding with a royal female groom, rare as they were. It was a very lovely ceremony, everything having been painstakingly planned down to the last flower petal.

 

The choir began as soon as Princess Anna entered. The princess was resplendent in her cream-colored silk dress and veil. She walked slowly down the aisle on the arm of her father, King Frederick, with a single bridesmaid carrying her train. The princess was visibly nervous, her cheeks and ears pink, eyes downcast. She was still a lovely sight, though, her rich copper hair loose on pale shoulders and a small tiara glinting in the soft sunlight that streamed in from the stained glass windows above.

 

When they came to the altar, the princess released her father's arm, adopted a look of ferocious concentration, and took the first step.

 

The sigh of relief was almost audible from the Corona section of the audience.

 

Princess Anna took another step.

 

And then on the third step her luck left her and she stumbled on her dress.

 

Right into the arms of the queen.

 

Queen Elsa bore her bride's weight gracefully, her hands cupping Princess Anna's elbows. The princess's cheek brushed one of the ornate medals on the groom's chest in her flight and she jerked back in embarrassment, whispering apologies. The queen gave her a small smile, guided her to the bride’s place, took the princess's hands into her own, and nodded to the bishop to begin reciting the banns. 

 

The vows were sealed with a chaste kiss. Princess Anna blushed prettily and ducked her head when every person in attendance stood up and clapped. Queen Elsa allowed another small smile and tucked the princess's hand under her arm with remarkable familiarity, as though she was used to taking on male roles, and nudged her new wife.

 

The princess caught on and held up her bouquet. The audience let out a cheer. The bride grinned, closed her eyes and heaved with all her might.

 

The bouquet sailed over heads and down almost the full length of the aisle, but was saved when an eager young lord took a running leap and caught it. He trotted down to the royal couple to proudly present his prize. All enjoyed a good chuckle when he bowed with an exaggerated flourish, straightening to declare, "Long live the queens! May you enjoy all the pleasures of the marital coil!"

 

And the newly joined heirs of House Arendelle and House Corona left, the sound of church bells and the cheering populace trailing after them to Arendelle Castle.

 

* * *

 

 

Leaning out the carriage window, Anna waved back at the celebrating townspeople, their joy infectious. Everybody looked so happy. Anna was happy. It was her wedding day. She was married to Elsa.

 

She was now Elsa's _wife_.

 

As they pulled away and the crowds thinned, the horses going at a brisk pace, Anna sat back against the carriage's plush cushions and looked down to her lap and the ring now on her hand. It was just a simple band of gold, an ancient heirloom stretching all the way back to Arendelle's founding when it was a much smaller kingdom and gold was much more precious. She could see the history in that simple bit of metal, the way it carried all the hopes and promises of countless Arendelle queens. She closed her hand over the ring and, to her left, snuck a peek at her new... _husband? Wife? Queen?_

 

She wasn't really sure of all the formalities for a same sex marriage, especially a royal one. She could figure it out, she was sure of it. But beyond the formalities...

 

Anna traced the outline of the queen's profile with her eyes. Elsa was just so... so... Well, _everything_. It was hard to even think of all the words to describe Elsa. Beautiful. Even in her uniform that was supposed to make her handsome, which she was, but she was also beautiful in it. The clean military cut flattered her as well as any ball gown could have. The collar emphasized her slender throat and the graceful line of her jaw. Her complexion was snowy, but not sickly--she’d heard many ladies comment enviously on Elsa’s skin. Anna wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, to make sure this was real. Her fingers twitched in her lap.

 

Elsa noticed her looking and turned to face her, her expression solemn. "I promise that I will do my best by you," she said softly, like an oath.

 

It wasn't the most romantic thing she'd ever heard, but Anna was old enough to know not every single thing described in novels was real. Coming from Elsa, though, she knew the queen meant every word. She offered her a crooked smile. "I know. I promise, too."

 

The moment was perfect, just perfect for a kiss. Elsa was looking at her with those gorgeous blue eyes and they were almost touching, Elsa's gloved hand resting on the seat between them, fingers almost brushing her thigh. Anna angled her face up for it, her breath already quickening in anticipation. Just like she’d imagined it as a girl, a lovely wedding, a lovely prince--or queen in this case, but Anna was flexible--and a lovely first, private kiss as a married woman.

 

Elsa's lids lowered, eyes falling on Anna's mouth. She breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. _Anna_ , she thought blissfully. _Anna was hers_. Her queen. Her ring was on her finger and she was _hers_. Her mind was still reeling from the reality of it. She could kiss her all she wanted, bury her hands in that glorious fall of molten copper and... do all manner of things that was not appropriate inside a carriage.

 

She tried to quell the surge of possessiveness. It was vulgar how much she wanted Anna, but she would not turn into an animal, a slave to her desires. And the wedding night, oh god. It filled her with equal parts of shameful lust and dread. She would... she would... she had no idea what the hell she was going to do, and kissing Anna ( _her wife, her beautiful wife, hers, hers, hers)_ was not going to help control these urges. Elsa was certain moving too quickly would ruin everything. Anna was innocent.

 

Then she saw the way Anna was looking at her and her mind went blank.

 

It started out chaste. A meeting of lips, slightly clumsy from inexperience. Elsa didn't mean for it to be anything other than that. She had expected Anna to pull back. Instead, Anna's lids slid shut and the younger woman leaned into it and Elsa was lost. Anna's lips were soft, so soft. She couldn't help it. She let the kiss deepen, shifting in her seat to cup Anna's cheek with one hand, the other hand clutching at the seat cushion, fingers digging in. Her knees went weak.

 

Anna's lips parted, puffing out a quick breath against Elsa's mouth. She felt the taller woman tremble and, emboldened, she placed shaking hands to Elsa's chest, trying to find purchase. The uniform was too finely made, though, not a single loose fold to hold and, sadly, no lapels. Elsa released a soft groan at her searching touch and held her more firmly, cradling the curve of Anna's jaw against her palm, gloved fingers sliding through auburn hair to rest against her nape. Her tongue brushed Anna's lower lip and the younger woman gasped, her hands finally finding a place on Elsa's shoulders to grip.

 

Warning flashed among the stars behind Elsa's closed lids as she coaxed Anna's mouth open. Her right hand, the one that'd nearly torn holes in the velvet seat trying to contain herself, had found its way to the small of Anna's back. Her fingers spread to span _her wife_ ' _s_ slim waist, greedy to touch as much of her as possible.

 

At that moment, Elsa despised the barrier on her hands, and found herself wishing the beautiful wedding dress to hell, even if Anna looked like a goddess in it, just so she could feel warm bare skin. And the thought of Anna naked, good _god._ She shivered. _I am not an animal,_ she chanted. _I will not..._ The effort was wasted as soon as she felt Anna’s fingers dig into her shoulders, coherent thought dissipating like smoke.

 

Anna clutched at Elsa's epaulettes, not caring at all that she was wringing the fine silk beneath her fingers. If she'd known where Elsa's thoughts were going on her current clothed state, she'd have complied with scandalous rapidity. The carriage interior felt stifling, the air thick, and she'd like nothing more than to yank the dress up over her head, so long as Elsa could keep kissing her like that. Her lips felt swollen and too sensitive, edging on pain. And when they had to part for air, foreheads pressed together and noses touching, Elsa’s warm exhales slid over her mouth and made her wonder dazedly what cruel god made people choose between kissing and breathing.

 

She'd never, ever been kissed like this before, like she was going to be consumed by it and didn't care if she survived. Anna edged herself closer -- _to her wife? Spouse? Did she even care what it was called?--_ and half-crawled into Elsa's lap with the same disregard for her precious silk wedding dress as Elsa's uniform. She wanted to feel Elsa against her. Her back arched, her body knowing exactly what it wanted and Anna didn't understand it, but she followed her instincts. When her breasts brushed against Elsa's front, they broke apart with a gasp.

 

They stared at each other, both panting. Elsa gazed at Anna, then swallowed as reality seeped in.. Anna's dress was noticeably wrinkled and there was an enticing blush that colored her cheeks. Her breasts strained against the silk bodice with every breath she took. Her hair was mussed and it was obvious, so obvious, what they’d been doing. No, what _Elsa_ had been doing.

 

Elsa closed her eyes in deep mortification as some shred of sense returned. _We're still in the damn carriage and I've already assaulted her._ Her brain was still muddled from that intoxicating kiss, so Elsa couldn't quite remember who started it, but was certain it was her fault.

 

The pair suddenly became aware of the outside world as the tenor of the carriage wheels changed from cobblestone to wood. Anna glanced out the window and the fjord’s sparkling water greeted her. They were crossing the bridge from the city to the castle. Realizing where she was--namely, on Elsa's lap--she started with a panicked sound and scrambled off to her side, frantically straightening the wrinkles on her dress.

 

Elsa covered her face with a hand, embarrassed beyond belief and disgusted with herself.. _Not an auspicious start for our marriage_ , she thought. She looked down at herself and while the uniform was a little rumpled, it was nothing compared to the mess she'd made of Anna's dress. And the whole world would see and know she couldn't even keep her hands off her from the trip between the altar and the bloody castle.

_I've already dishonored my wife_ , she thought with a grimace. Elsa was humiliated on Anna's behalf. She glanced out the corner of her eye and nearly offered to help, but reconsidered at the last second. She doubted Anna would appreciate her hands anywhere near her person given that she was the cause of the mess.

 

They both avoided looking at each other. The rest of the ride was suffocating in its awkwardness, but was thankfully short.

 

As the carriage rolled through the freshly paved drive, Anna cleared her throat.

 

Elsa steeled herself, expecting a cold admonishment for her behavior. She deserved it.

 

Anna touched Elsa's shoulder and made vague gestures. "Your uniform," she whispered. "They're... ah..."

 

The queen frowned, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

 

Anna gave up and leaned toward her, straightening the mangled tassels on her epaulettes. She was blushing again when she pulled back. 

 

The coachman announced their arrival and liveried footmen appeared at the doors. Ordinarily, the groom, or husband, would remove himself first to help his lady out. But the occasion was special and the quandary just now occurring to the servants--what to do if the queen was now considered a king? She was still female, of course, was she treated now with the deference and customs as a man?

 

Elsa would have laughed if she weren’t trying to escape the carriage as soon as she was able. She waved off the waiting footman’s proffered hand and disembarked. She waited just an instant to see if Anna expected her to help her off, then wanted to slap herself. Again, Anna probably didn’t want her to touch her. She was an idiot. She rounded the carriage and stood at her side patiently, waiting for Anna to straighten her dress. The servants didn’t appear to notice anything amiss, but good servants were discreet.

 

She sighed, still berating herself. She was an idiot. A great, big idiot with the finesse and libido of a teenage boy.

 

Anna looked up at Elsa. The queen had her gaze fixed to one of the larger turrets, her cheeks still a little pink. She wasn’t certain what she ought to be calling Elsa in front of others now that they were married. She and Elsa hadn’t discussed it before. In fact, she hadn’t even seen Elsa for the past almost four years before the old king died, living in Corona, waiting to come of age and fulfill the betrothal Elsa’s father, King Alexander, had arranged.

 

The king and queen of Corona, who had always been close with Arendelle’s own royal family, had been devastated at the news of King Alexander and Queen Marina’s passing. Many had expected the betrothal to be broken after the last remaining Arendelle had disappeared from the public eye entirely, her presence prior often compared to a blue moon.

 

But then a messenger had arrived in Corona bearing Elsa’s seal a year ago with a short missive two years after the disastrous voyage: _Let Arendelle and Corona join families._

King Frederick had been overjoyed and had Prince Hans’s all-but-official engagement with his only daughter broken at once. Hans had been none too pleased about that. Anna had felt the same. She had liked Hans, though she supposed her ire was directed more at how her future was so completely rearranged with all the nonchalance and eloquence of a greeting card. She’d even been making plans about which of the Southern Isles she’d visit with Hans for their honeymoon and that letter--wholly unromantic and not even signed! Or addressed to her!--had decided Anna’s life for her.

 

She’d thrown a royal tantrum about it, of course. It’d been about the principle of the thing, but even if she was a descendent of one of the oldest noble families on the continent, she was still beholden to her father. Her sire had sent her to her room and forbade her to even consider walking past the dining hall, well aware of the possibility his daughter might elope if her temper took deep enough hold.

 

To this day, Anna thought Elsa should have at least had the courtesy to write her, especially if the matter was regarding matrimony. It wasn’t like Elsa didn’t know how to. They’d spent many years of their youth communicating by letters, the distance between Arendelle and Corona preventing frequent visits, but near enough for shared holidays. Though the letters from Elsa had stopped after the storm had taken her parents’ lives.

 

Even _still_.

 

Well, at least she hadn’t married a perfect stranger like some of the less fortunate ladies at court. To her understanding, it was usually financially motivated. Arendelle was so far removed from that particular characterization that it was laughable. Extremely laughable. Maybe to the point of tears and rude hooting.

 

She at least _knew_ Elsa. They’d almost grown up together, to a certain point.

 

Though that kiss in the carriage was… shocking. Hans had never kissed her like that before. His were… she couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but they were actually proper. At the time, she hadn’t thought of them as such, fancying herself quite worldly and experienced afterward. But the truth of it was staring her in the face and Anna was forced to admit that Hans’s kisses were suited for courtly wooing. Not a passionate romance.

 

And proper was not the word that could appropriately describe what had occurred between herself and Elsa. Her skin still tingled where Elsa’s hands had been. Anna pressed her lips together, savoring that delicious kiss.

 

Yes, unless one was looking for another grand laugh, that was not a proper, virtuous kiss.

 

Elsa turned to see Anna watching her with a speculative look. She felt a trifle uncomfortable under her scrutiny and unconsciously fiddled with the sword at her side. Aware of the small army of servants around them, Elsa offered her arm.

 

“Shall we?”

 

To her relief, Anna took it without protest or declarations of annulment and they walked together into their new home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> "YAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSS and one million bonus points if the more powerful person's attempts to convey respect and allow the other person some measure of autonomy/boundaries (AKA NOT JUST CROWDING INTO THEIR MARRIAGE BED AND DEMANDING ALL THE MARITAL RIGHTS) come off as teeth-gritting vague dislike, and the less powerful person's attempts to just stay the fuck out of the way and not be a bother come off as YOUR TOUCH—WHICH I'M OBLIGATED TO ALLOW—DISGUSTS ME and everyone's stewing in misery while being excruciatingly polite and lusting sadly after each other from afar.
> 
> OR THE REVERSE, where they have an instant sexual connection (TREMBLING BREATHLESS KISSES IN THE CARRIAGE ON THE WAY BACK FROM THE WEDDING) but both (MISTAKENLY) believe that the other one married them as a last resort and thinks they're . so the same with the distant stiff politeness during the day, but punctuated by NIGHTS OF TENDER PASSION after which both stew in misery that it's just opportunistic sex, nothing more, despite the secret feeeeeeelings they are both developing."
> 
> So, basically, there will be a lot of terrible misunderstandings and resulting angst. Please let me know what you think, I would appreciate constructive criticism!
> 
> UPDATE-I've recently decided that the story here will no longer really adhere to the prompt and will likely drastically go off into a different direction. You can ignore the prompt for the purposes of the story, but I want to keep it here to show where the original inspiration came from for posterity.


	2. Chapter 2

Kai and Gerda greeted the newlyweds at the doors of the main hall. Both were the heads of the royal household, the butler and housekeeper respectively. Gerda was attempting to contain her joy, eyes bright with unshed tears, and Kai was grinning from ear to ear.

 

"Such a wonderful ceremony, your majesty," Gerda said to Elsa. She and Kai had attended most of the service and rushed back to the castle to receive the royal couple. "Oh, if only the old king and queen could have seen it! Your father would have been so proud."

 

Elsa gave a tight smile and nodded. Her hand gripped the hilt of her father's old sword, careful not to allow ice to form on it.

 

The housekeeper turned to Anna and drew her into a hug. "Oh, my dear," she whispered, pulling back to cup Anna's cheeks. "It's 'your majesty' now! And look at you! How you've grown into such a fine lady and bride. We've missed you so."

 

Anna grinned and returned the embrace. Gerda had always been her favorite servant when Anna visited Arendelle, sneaking her chocolate treats and keeping her schemes secret, even when she'd made a bad enough mess to warrant a royal spanking as a child. Anna was certain Gerda was the sole reason her bottom wasn't tanned off due to her fondness for the Corona princess, even when she deserved it.

 

"It's wonderful to see you, too, Gerda."

 

Kai bowed deeply. "Your majesties," he began, still smiling. "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but the day's schedule is rather full."

 

"You'll have to change out of that dress," Elsa said, careful not to let her eyes linger on Anna's cleavage. Her mouth suddenly dried as she remembered how Anna had felt in her arms, sitting in her lap. She continued on, her tone brusque to hide the sudden heat that washed over her. "You'll find another dress has been prepared for the evening ball. Gerda will take you."

 

Elsa watched the housekeeper lead Anna away. When she reached the threshold, Anna looked back and gave her a small smile over her shoulder. Elsa didn't trust herself not do something stupid, so she nodded once and then Anna was gone.

 

"Your majesty, you have your own change of attire as well," Kai said. He was watching the queen with veiled curiosity. Her majesty seemed tense and he'd seen the way she kept gripping the ceremonial sword like an anchor, the glove stretching over her knuckles.

 

“Have you decided if you’d prefer the suit or the dress for the evening party?”

 

"Your majesty?" He prompted when she didn’t react.

 

Elsa finally turned back to the butler. "I have to wear the suit," she said. "I have to dance with her, don't I?"

 

The butler blinked. The queen sounded distressed about it, which was odd in itself given the amount of effort she'd personally put into planning the wedding; her majesty had decided everything from start to finish, including the dance. Kai had also seen firsthand the weeks the queen had spent relearning every popular waltz and ballroom dance in the male role with the etiquette master. _Performance jitters?_ Kai wondered.

 

"Yes, your majesty," he affirmed.

 

Elsa's shoulders fell. "I'll go change, then."

 

Kai watched the queen leave the hall with a frown.

 

* * *

 

Gerda took Anna to the Queen's chambers, which was a series of rooms adjoining the King's chambers. Arendelle Castle was now vast and winding and rather circuitous. In its original state, it had been quite small, but as the kingdom's fortunes improved over the centuries, previous monarchs took to adding their own renovations to make the once modest castle into the great labyrinth it was now. Anna didn't mind; she had fond memories of exploring the corridors and hidden rooms, drafty as they were. Quite a few of those recollections did involve her and Elsa getting lost as children, but that was part of the fun at that age. Elsa had claimed there was a map of the castle with all its strange additions somewhere and they’d made a game out of it, like a treasure hunt. She wondered if Elsa ever found it.

 

Anna smiled, suddenly feeling nostalgic. It'd been so long since she’d last been inside the castle. Custom dictated that the bride and groom live separately until the actual ceremony, so Anna had been staying in a vacant estate built for visiting nobility with her parents instead of being housed in the castle proper as in the past. And now she had her own _chambers_. There were probably attached rooms that she'd never find.

 

Gerda ushered her into an enormous walk-in closet that rivaled her bedroom in Corona. Anna gaped. Dresses and outfits of every kind lined the walls. None of them looked familiar.

 

"Gerda, are these the old queen's?" Anna asked.

 

"Oh, heavens, no. These are all yours, dear," Gerda said, walking to an elegant forest green ballgown displayed on a mannequin.

 

"The queen commissioned several dressmakers for your wardrobe. Come, come, let's get you out of that and into this lovely dress. I'm sure the wedding gown is heavy, beautiful as it is," the housekeeper continued on, oblivious to Anna's shock. Even Anna could see that the contents of that closet had to have cost a fortune. Then again, Arendelle was ludicrously wealthy. Anna had just never realized how that wealth would manifest itself.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted as Gerda began undoing her stays. Anna obediently held still.

 

"You must be busy with other duties," Anna remarked. "You could send in a maid for something like this."

 

"Oh, the staff won't fall apart without me," Gerda replied. "And I'd like to be here for you, dear. It's not every day you get to see a princess properly married off in a grand royal wedding."

 

"As opposed to improperly?" Anna snickered. The bodice loosened and she pulled her arms free, the silk falling to her hips. She wore a chemise and drawers underneath.

 

Gerda tsked as she gathered up the wedding dress and laid it reverently out on a naked mannequin. "You were always so wild when you were girl," she started, lips pursed. "Leading the young princess about on such adventures and getting lost in the castle. We were worried you'd get up to trouble with that boy from the Southern Isles."

 

"'That boy?'" Anna grinned. "You mean Prince Hans?" Only Gerda could call a prince "that boy" with such distaste.

 

"Only thirteenth in line to the throne of the Southern Isles," Gerda sniffed, her disdain obvious.

 

"That hardly compares to the queen of Arendelle." Few could compare to Arendelle's blue blood and Anna could hardly fault Hans for that, though the Southern Isles was a relatively young nation. The Southern Isles royal family was generally viewed as an upstart in the land of revered ancient bloodlines. Their breeding was (in private company) often compared unfavorably to that of rabbits in both quality and frequency, thus Hans's unfortunate place in the line of succession.

 

"I liked Hans!" Anna protested. Gerda awarded her with another pointed look and held out the green ball gown. She stepped in, careful not to crush the fine lace and silk.

 

"He wrote me lovely poetry."

 

Gerda's eyes rolled, but she was behind her lacing up the dress, so Anna missed it. "All the same, you're now the queen of Arendelle." She turned Anna to face her, examining the dress.

 

"You'll make her very happy," she said, referring to Elsa, her eyes going soft and wet again.

 

"Oh, Gerda." Anna drew the matron into her arms. "I'll try to. God, I haven't seen Elsa in years. I have no idea what kind of person she is now."

 

The kiss in the carriage roared to the forefront of her mind as glaring proof of that statement. Her cheeks warmed.

 

"She's still the same wonderful girl," Gerda said after releasing Anna, careful to keep her face away from staining the silk. She fished out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. "A grown woman now, of course." She patted Anna's cheek, smiling fondly at the former princess she treated as her own daughter.

 

"You'll discover all the lovely things about her soon enough."

 

Anna pressed her lips together again, recalling the image of Elsa beneath her, flushed and panting.

 

"I think I'm well on my way to."

 

* * *

 

While Anna was considering how to go about rediscovering her new spouse, Elsa was in the King's chambers trying to do the exact opposite.

 

Her eyes kept drifting to the door adjoining their rooms. Just beyond the door (and past the Queen’s breakfast room, private drawing room and the actual bedroom), Anna would be changing into the green dress Elsa had chosen. She would slide out of the cream wedding dress, wearing only a chemise and drawers and garters and stockings. All cream colored. Elsa knew all of these details because she'd decided to be responsible for everything in order to make Anna's new life in the castle as pleasant as possible.

 

She'd immersed herself in clothes and fashion for Anna's wardrobe. She had no idea of the sheer number of _choices_ women had to subject themselves to—Elsa had previously allowed Gerda to handle the matter of her wardrobe. Or how many shades of green there were. Even dressmakers had a breaking point when their patron, royalty or not, could not adequately describe which green she wanted. _"I beg a thousand pardons, your majesty,"_ one of the kinder dressmakers had said with a trace of exasperation, " _but 'in-between fresh summer grass and fern' is not a shade I have. Please choose from one of these samples._ " Horrifying, especially when she didn’t like _any_ of them, trying to imagine how they’d contrast to Anna’s hair. Elsa imagined if there was a hell, samples would be waiting for her.

 

Then she'd redecorated the Queen's chambers in Anna's favorite colors, retaining her sanity only through astute delegation having learned from the dressmaker episode. She agonized over the selection of antique furniture inside, wondering if Anna would even like any of it. Then felt terrible for having considered replacing them—they were her late mother's. In the end, she decided to leave them.

 

She'd had the entire castle cleaned and dusted, a vast undertaking since her ancestors were consistent in the shared notion that their legacy needed to be permanently stamped into the castle, each generation trying to outdo and outspend the last. She didn't know how it was possible the castle could keep expanding outward like an obese cat. It was practically on an _island_. Where did the land to support it even come from? Were the waters outside that shallow? She suspected that sometime by the next century the battlements that concealed the hodgepodge of dubious improvements would burst at the seams and spill out into the city, gobbling up the bridge and maybe the rest of the fjord, too.

 

 _That'd_ make an impression on later generations.

 

And all these additions meant the equivalent of the annual income of a small country was needed to maintain it, and could comfortably house that same population, too. Elsa's eyes had nearly fallen out of her skull when she'd seen the estimated household costs. No wonder most of the castle was closed off. Even Arendelle's bounty had its limits. Still, the castle would be where her new wife would live and she would make it presentable. Just in case Anna preferred to sleep elsewhere. The thought hurt and made Elsa not want to sleep at all, but she was prepared for it. While her mother and father had not slept in separate beds, there were other ancestors who had. Legend was that one Arendelle king maintained a mistress in one wing and installed his queen in another and neither was aware of the other's existence for nearly a decade.

 

Elsa thought that tale was more a testament to the discretion of the castle servants at the time and less to do with the vastness of the castle.

 

She'd hired cooks of varying culinary backgrounds in case Anna enjoyed different types and cultures of food. She'd refurbished the stables and bought a string of thoroughbreds because she remembered Anna enjoyed riding. She'd imported all manner of exotic plants and flowers to harvest in the royal greenhouse. Anna liked flowers, she thought. She was sure Anna had mentioned some fondness for flora, but not what type, so she'd bought every kind she could get her hands on. There were many. She ought to have torn the leaves off a few and shown them to the dressmakers, but by the time she'd thought of it, the wardrobe was mostly done. 

 

Elsa was painfully aware that she was overcompensating. She’d come upon the conclusion late one night in her father’s—no, _her_ study now—when she was reviewing the monthly fiscal report. Granted, Anna would be her queen and lavish gifts and gestures were the norm, but looking at the list still made her drop her head into her hands in chagrin. She was trying too hard.

 

Not that she would ever admit it to anybody but herself and only in moments like now when she was riddled with despair and self-doubt. She was pathetic, staring at the door that would lead (after an arduous trek through three other rooms) to where her wife was dressing, fantasizing about her bare form while wearing her father's uniform. Such was the lengths she was willing to go to please Anna.

 

She would even dress as a _man_.

 

It wasn't that she disliked men's clothes. But she certainly didn't make a habit of wearing them and had only done it because it was for Anna. Not that Anna had ever expressed a desire that she wanted Elsa to wear the uniform for the wedding, but... even if they'd been betrothed for years and years, Anna was still a woman who dreamed of a prince, Elsa knew. Elsa understood. So, she did her best to fulfill that dream, even if it was superficial and temporary.

 

Elsa loved Anna. She'd loved her for _years_ while Anna dreamed of that prince _._ Elsa loved her for so long that she couldn't remember a time when she didn't, like she'd sprung from the womb with her heart already belonging to Anna in some form or another. She'd been in Corona with her parents when Anna came to the world, had been entranced by the babe King Frederick had so proudly presented to his close friends. She'd even begged her parents for a sibling, though her mother had always smiled sadly and told her she could not.

 

She watched Anna grow and they were the best of friends when they were together. And when Elsa was old enough to know that what she felt for Anna was turning from friendship to infatuation... well. She didn’t know what possessed her father to propose the betrothal to King Frederick. The match heavily favored Corona for a single reason: they already had a healthy male heir, Prince Kristoff, who was Anna's older brother. There was no concern of the bloodline being severed. Elsa, on the other hand, was the last Arendelle.

 

She’d begged her parents to not make Anna her betrothal, even if the thought of marrying Anna made her breathless. She would have swallowed her love and pride and married whichever man they chose. It was her duty. She would have borne a child and continued the line, regardless of how miserable she’d have been.

 

But if her wife was Anna…

 

No. She would not dishonor Anna. She’d rather die than shame her.

 

Elsa swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat, her vision blurring.

 

There was a clause in their marriage contract, a very specific clause that Elsa had inserted and made sure King Frederick agreed to. The clause gave her consent as sole representative of House Arendelle to legitimize any children produced by a union between Anna and a male consort. Any child of Anna’s would automatically be afforded the same status and protection as though it were Elsa’s own. The child would inherit her name. Anna would suffer no punishment, no repercussions, no loss of her royal titles, esteem, status, privilege. She would remain Elsa’s wife, free to do as she pleased.

 

She had, in essence, given Anna permission to break her heart.

 

* * *

 

Corona, one year ago

 

_King Frederick seized the pale girl before him into a bear hug._

_"My god, Elsa, it’s good to see you," the king exclaimed. He pulled her back and examined her with a critical eye._

_"You need to eat more. You look like a damned martyr on death’s doorstep."_

_Elsa smiled weakly, aware of the dark circles under her eyes and her wan complexion. She’d glimpsed her reflection on the silver platter that a servant had left next to her while she was waiting for an audience with the king._

_"I’m sorry, Uncle," she said, her voice cracking with disuse. The king was not her uncle by blood, but she’d always referred to him affectionately as such. "I’ll try not to remind you of sacrifices."_

_The king chuckled, though the words were a bit too close to the truth. The last time King Frederick had seen Elsa was over two years ago, a few months before the loss of Alexander and Marina. She looked heartbreakingly somber, grief etched into her eyes. Marina’s eyes and Alexander’s proud bearing. Too young for such loss, for both Elsa and her parents._

_King Frederick led her to the large desk that dominated his study. They sat, King Frederick behind the desk, the surface having been hastily cleared off when his secretary had informed him that Princess Elsa was waiting outside his door, heels still dusty from travel. She’d arrived unannounced and while King Frederick was glad to see her, he was also confused. Matters had to be urgent for Elsa to leave Arendelle, and in secret no less._

_"Shall I call for Anna?" He grinned. "She’d love to see you."_

_"No, that’s not necessary," Elsa said quickly. "I apologize for the terse message earlier… regarding the betrothal. And not passing on word that I would be coming."_

_"You’re always welcome here," King Frederick said gently. "Though you did surprise me. Is aught amiss? I will help to the best of my ability."_

_Elsa reached into her satchel on her lap, fingers brushing the folder of parchment that’d never left her side since she left Arendelle. Papers that she’d read and reread, going over every word, memorizing each sentence and paragraph. Making sure it was ironclad._

_"I’m glad you’re still receptive to the betrothal," she began. "That’s… partly why I’m here."_

_King Frederick’s brow furrowed as he regarded the young woman before him. Even though exhaustion showed on her features, she looked steadily back at him._

_"If you’re worried about the betrothal, my messenger ought to be on the road to Arendelle already," he began. "We received your letter only two days past. When did you leave? You must have chased the man’s heels to get here."_

_Elsa shook her head. "No, I… it’s a personal matter. Well, not personal," she corrected. "It is for both Corona and Arendelle. The marriage contract."_

_King Frederick frowned now, lips pursing. "That contract was already signed long ago between myself and your father. Even if you hadn’t sent that letter, Anna has always been promised to you. Of course, if you didn’t want to go through with the betrothal, we would have rescinded it."_

_His brows rose. "Are you here to rescind? Was that letter from earlier sent by mistake?"_

_"No! That is… no," she blurted out. "I wish to honor my commitment to Anna."_

_"Were you concerned we would back out, then?"_

_"No, no, I… Forgive me, I am having some difficulty articulating what I mean." Elsa took a deep breath. Her hands were cold and sweaty. She felt numb. "Please give me a moment."_

_"Do you want to hear about Anna?" King Frederick asked after a long silence. He knew his only daughter and Elsa, who he cared for as deeply as his own, were close. Mentions of Anna always brought some levity to Elsa’s seriousness and the princess looked like she was facing an executioner at that moment._

_"Her birthday is in a few weeks. We’d love for you to stay, join in the celebration. Anna would be overjoyed to see you."_

_But Elsa didn’t smile as King Frederick expected. In fact, she seemed to look even more grim._

_"I doubt that. I know she had a… an engagement. To a Prince Hans."_

_King Frederick snorted. "Him? Hardly. I haven’t approved any kind of engagement. He’s a nice enough sort," the king grumbled, catching Elsa’s questioning look. "Polished, good manners. I don’t trust him, though. I doubt my girl would be happy with him for long."_

_"I see. Does Anna love him?"_

_"Does it matter? I don’t approve and I don’t think he deserves her. I won’t give her to him." He’d meant it to reassure Elsa, but her expression didn’t change at all._

_"I want to amend the marriage contract." She drew out the contents of her satchel and gingerly laid it out on the desk. Her hand was steady now._

_The king blinked at the documents. "What’s wrong with the old one?"_

_She was tired, so tired. And numb. She sometimes had to concentrate and place her hand over her breast to feel her own heartbeat and know she was still alive. To make sure her heart had not frozen over from grief and heartache._

_"My understanding of the contract that was agreed upon between you and my father was the standard one for two women entering a marriage with property involved," Elsa started. The words came out smoothly, just as she’d practiced. "With alterations to a few clauses regarding the matter of Anna’s dowry, her allowance, land and titles bequeathed to her."_

_"Yes?" The king prompted. Elsa had paused overly long. She blinked several times as though coming out of a trance._

_"I believe my father also removed a particular clause regarding… heirs. And the matter of… companionship."_

_The king stared._

_"Elsa," he started to say, his disbelief evident. "That matter has already been decided-"_

_"I know it has! I want—No. I-I request, with all due respect, to…" Why were her words failing her now? At this very moment, when she needed them the most? She held up her hand and breathed in again. In. Out. In. Out._

_"I request that the marriage contract between Princess Anna of Corona and I, head of House Arendelle, be amended to include provisions regarding heirs produced outside of our marriage and the consequences therein should such an occurrence arise." She recited it without stumbling._

_King Frederick looked at her with sad eyes. "Why would you do this, Elsa? Is this some kind of test? We--your father and I--removed that clause because it was unnecessary. Anna would never-"_

_"Uncle, please. It’s not for myself, it’s for Anna, for her children-"_

_"But you love her," he said. "I know you, Elsa. It would break your heart if Anna ever did anything like that. Your father knew as well, and that was why we agreed it should not be there. It is a terrible thing, and even if you did include it, Anna would never betray your trust. Anna keeps her promises."_

_"It’s not that," she said through numb lips. "I know she wouldn’t… stray. But I know she would like children."_

_King Frederick huffed out a breath. "Then adopt."_

_"That’s… no. That’s not good enough. It wouldn’t be a blood relation and you know adoptions can be invalidated for inheritances," she insisted._

_"It would be enough if you simply wanted Anna to raise children."_

_Elsa made a frustrated noise. "It’s different. She ought to have her own. It’s… it’s not the same."_

_"Then explain it to me, Elsa," he pleaded, speaking to the girl before him as he would his own child. "Tell me why."_

_"I am the last Arendelle. I’m all that remains after Mother and Father passed. I should have been betrothed to a prince, a man, someone who would sire the next Arendelle and continue the line. But Father didn’t promise me to a prince. He chose Anna. Do you understand? He chose to end our family with me."_

_Horror spread over King Frederick’s face. "No," he said at once. "That is not true. He chose nothing of the kind. He wanted only the best for you-"_

_"I will not let Arendelle end with me!" Elsa shouted, knocking her chair over as she snapped to her feet. Frost covered the desk surface, stopping just short of the pile of documents._

_The king sighed. He rose as well and righted Elsa’s chair, motioning for her to sit. Instead of returning, he dropped down on a neighboring seat and took Elsa’s hands in his own. He winced. They were ice._

_"The best way thing for Arendelle would be to break the betrothal," Elsa said dully. "Find a suitable man, have a child, secure Arendelle’s future. But Father chose Anna for me and I don’t know why. One of his last wishes was for me to take Anna as wife and I—I want to fulfill that._

_You have my word that I will marry Anna. I want to offer the protection of my name and a future for any child Anna bears. Not for me. I will not bear children. I will not betray the vow I make to Anna, nor do I want to pass this curse onto my children."_

_Elsa closed her eyes._

_"I think that was why he wanted me to marry Anna and remove that clause. The removal was meant for me, even though I would be faithful. So this… this curse will not continue. It will die with me, and so will Arendelle blood, but Anna’s will carry Arendelle forward," she whispered._

_King Frederick dropped his head to stare at their joined hands._

_"I will agree to this," he finally said. "But all this pain will be for nothing if Anna refuses to bear a child. She will love you, Elsa, I swear it."_

_But Elsa was already shaking her head. "I’m not who she wants. She’d never say it, but I’m not it." Princes and knights, she thought. Not me. I’m neither. I’m just someone who she had no choice in._

_"I don’t know what you think Anna feels, but marriage changes everything, Elsa. I don’t want your union to carry this cloud over your heads. And I don’t want you to drive Anna away just so Arendelle will have an heir under some mistaken belief that it’s for the best."_

_"I will not mistreat her," Elsa promised. "I will love her and take care of her and if what I have to offer is not enough, then she’ll have a way out. You see, I am the one benefitting from it. If she leaves and has a child, that child will be cared for. And if she stays, then… then I would still win. I would benefit either way."_

_The king sighed in defeat. "I was wrong. You_ are _a damned martyr."_

* * *

 

_Elsa had stayed the night in Corona. King Frederick would not sign the amended contract until she had rested and thought her decision through again, but she’d known it would not change. She’d managed to persuade him to keep her presence secret and he had tucked her away into one of the guest bedrooms on the opposite side of the castle from Anna’s room._

_Luckily, Anna had been confined to her rooms at the time. King Frederick had said she’d thrown a childish fit over the news of their renewed betrothal. If anything, that bit of information only reaffirmed her belief that that clause needed to be included._

_By the next morning, Elsa was ready to leave, still firm in her belief of the amendment. King Frederick had grudgingly signed it, but not before making her watch him escort Anna outside to the stables from her window, claiming she ought to at least see what her bride looked like._

_In the span of only two years, Anna had become beautiful._

_No, that was wrong. She’d always thought Anna beautiful. What had changed was that she’d become aware of her physically._

_Elsa had been surprised at her own body’s reaction to Anna. She’d stared hungrily at Anna, appalled at how her gaze lingered on Anna’s legs and hips, stared too long at the breasts hidden under the riding jacket. Gazed at her face, how it had matured, losing the last of its baby fat._

_Alarmed at the direction of her thoughts, she’d nearly ripped the contract free from King Frederick’s hands in her attempt to flee once Anna was away from the castle. She’d felt like a voyeur. She couldn’t put distance between herself and Anna fast enough._

* * *

 

Elsa glanced at the clock. She’d been standing in the middle of the room staring blankly at Anna’s door for the past fifteen minutes, reliving bad memories. The happiness from earlier was gone, leaving her heart heavy, if it was there at all.  She tried to summon up the vision of Anna in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle, a realized dream; then her throat closed up as she wondered when Anna would be walking away from her because she found her lacking.

 

The door suddenly opened.

 

Elsa and Gerda stared at one another, both going stiff with surprise.

 

Gerda recovered first and scowled. "You haven’t changed yet!" She bustled into the room and closed the door before Elsa could react.

 

"Your wife has already finished!" Gerda scolded. She herded Elsa to the large bed where her evening attire was laid out.

 

"Has she?" Elsa asked, dazed. Yes, Anna would be wearing the green dress. "Does it compliment her?"

 

Gerda gave her an odd look. "You’ll see her soon."

 

She began unbuttoning Elsa’s uniform for her since the queen seemed incapable of it, her eyes distant and arms limp at her sides.

 

"I must ask, but are you all right, dear?"

 

She seemed to snap out of whatever had been arresting her attention. "Yes. I’m fine. I can dress myself, Gerda. You can go," she said firmly.

 

The older woman looked like she wanted to protest, but left when the queen gave a shake of her head. Elsa draped the uniform top over the back of a chair, discarded the gloves and pulled the pristine white shirt free of her trousers. She glanced at her reflection.

 

This was who Anna married. A pale woman masquerading as a man, chest swelling just below the last button she’d left undone at the center. A family heirloom sword at her side, meant for someone who could wield it. For some reason, her father had wanted this.

 

It wasn’t who she was.

 

With a frustrated sound, Elsa tore the pins out of her hair and yanked the coiled blonde plait down. The sword was unbelted and thrown on the bed, landing with a rattle. With palms pressed to the table, she leaned in and glared at the mirror, chest moving with quick agitated breaths. Long blonde hair fell in uneven layers around her pale face, past shoulders that could never pass as a man’s. A feminine face—her mother’s face, undeniably aristocratic and with sharper lines from stress and weight loss—stared back.

 

How could she have ever thought she could convince Anna with something like this? No matter what angle or misdirection Elsa could come up with, she was a _woman_. She was playing at pretend like a child, trying to impress another girl.

 

A bubble of hysterical laughter rose up. She smothered it with a hand and shook her head at her folly.

 

She had a full day ahead of celebrations and she needed to change. Wallowing in self-pity would get her nowhere and she needed to get through the schedule, at least for Anna’s sake. Anna would have her wedding and party, just as Elsa had planned.

 

With a sigh, Elsa went to the door to call for Gerda to help her dress for the sake of time, expecting the housekeeper to be hovering outside. But the person at the door she saw, hand oustretched to where the doorknob would have been, was Anna.

 

Elsa nearly slammed the door shut again, feeling raw and exposed.

 

"Uh," Anna said, her eyes sweeping down to take in the sight of disheveled and half-dressed queen. Elsa wanted to close her eyes. If ever she wanted to remind Anna that she was a woman… She resisted the urge to yank her shirt shut over her chest.

 

"Hello. I didn’t know where this door was supposed to go to," Anna said. She smiled crookedly, apologetic. "I didn’t mean to intrude."

 

"It’s all right." She stole a quick look at Anna’s dress. It did suit her, wonderfully. The thought of sample hell was suddenly more bearable.

 

"You look beautiful," she said without thinking.

 

Anna blushed. "Thank you." A pause. "And for the dress, I mean. Gerda told me you bought my wardrobe. It must have cost so much."

 

"You’re worth it," Elsa said, again without thinking. She grimaced. Did she have no control over her mouth now? She was just an endless litany of flaws.

 

But the look of surprise Anna showed her, complete with the rosy cheeks and shy smile, had her discarding the apology. She'd probably bungle that, too. She decided she ought to just keep her mouth shut.

 

A lock of blonde hair fell over her eye. Anna beat her to it, stepping into her to brush it back. Elsa's eyes went wide, her nerves buzzing at Anna's close proximity. Anna’s eyes were on her lips. The queen breathed in sharply, her body leaping in response. Desire made her hands twitch to reach for her wife and hold her tight. 

 

She wanted to kiss Anna again.

 

Elsa tried to crush the urge. Her hand was still gripping the doorknob, frost making it slippery. She needed to go if she wanted to avoid a repeat of the carriage ride. Now.

 

"I’m sorry, but I have to finish changing," Elsa forced out, taking a deliberate step back. Retreating into the safety of her room.

 

"I was looking for Gerda. Is she about?"

 

Anna blinked, disappointment evident. "She’s in the, uh, bedroom. I think. Too many rooms, I might get lost in them." She paused, searching Elsa's face.

 

"I’ll go get her if you want," she said.

 

Elsa nodded stiffly. "Please. Thank you." Her control slipping, she closed the door a little too quickly in her hurry. She leaned against it, wincing as ice bit into her back through the shirt, waiting. There were a few seconds of silence, but she eventually heard the ripple of skirts and footfalls that faded away. _I’m sorry, Anna_.

 

She put her face in her hands and smacked her head back against the door with a low groan.

 

 This was going to be much harder than she’d anticipated.

 

　

　

　

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

The door opened. Elsa stood at the threshold, her mouth open to say something and clearly not expecting to find her there.

 

“Uh,” Anna said, eyes immediately riveted. She drank in the sight before her—Elsa looked delightfully tousled. Her hair was loose down her shoulders, some sticking out at odd angles from her head. It looked like she’d hastily undone the braid and hadn’t attempted to comb it. She still had the white shirt on, but it was half undone and untucked. A cufflink glinted on one wrist, its twin hidden behind the door. It gave her a little thrill to see Elsa not looking perfectly put together. She couldn’t even remember the last time Elsa didn’t look neat and tidy.

 

And for some inexplicable reason, that parted shirt and bare sliver of skin was simply commanding all of her attention. Elsa wasn’t wearing anything else beneath it, she was certain of that. She fought not to stare and found it a losing battle.

 

"Hello. I didn’t know where this door was supposed to go to," she said. And the fact that she’d found Elsa looking like that… maybe she ought to go exploring more. “I didn’t mean to intrude."

 

 "It's all right," she heard Elsa say. She dragged her eyes back up to her face, feeling guilty. _She'd just been ogling Elsa!_ Now that they were married, ogling was probably allowed. _Within reason,_ a voice in the back of her mind added. People were always telling her what she was allowed to do and then tacking on "within reason" at the end. God only knew what that meant. She imagined Elsa would not enjoy being ogled in public before important people. But they weren't in public right now. And if they were, then she’d “ogle within reason.”

 

"You look beautiful," Elsa said, her voice rough. The sound of it scraped nerves that Anna didn't know she had, like sandpaper. Anna's cheeks warmed in response, though Elsa's gaze seemed a bit distant.

 

"Thank you," Anna heard herself say. Oh, these etiquette lessons really were useful if it allowed her to surreptitiously ogle (within reason) and still appear alert. Master Flynn, Anna’s old etiquette teacher, would be so proud of how well she’d learned her lessons. She conveniently dismissed the notion that Master Flynn probably didn’t have this particular purpose in mind when he’d made her recite her lines.

 

She'd forgotten how thick and luxurious Elsa's hair was, the bun having hidden that quality during the ceremony. Her fingers itched to twine themselves into those freed tresses, perhaps to tug her closer. Then she remembered how Elsa had her hand in her hair during the carriage ride, her gloved fingers curled around her neck and Elsa's palm against her jaw. And then _that_ invoked the memory of their kiss again, the sensation of Elsa's tongue on her lips and she felt pleasantly light-headed.

 

She said something complimentary about the generous wardrobe and the expense. She wondered if she could persuade Elsa to kiss her again.

 

"You're worth it," Elsa said.

 

She had no idea what Elsa meant or what they were talking about anymore. She'd completely lost track of their conversation, busy thinking about kisses and Elsa being naked under her shirt. Anna was steeped in warmth and was finding things like conversation wholly irrelevant. Especially compared to this completely new side of Elsa that she’d never considered before.

 

Elsa grimaced.

 

Anna blushed a deep red; Elsa must have noticed her inattention. She offered up a shy smile in apology, hoping she wasn't angry. Elsa looked like she was going to say more, but decided against it. The taller woman shifted her weight restlessly and a long lock of hair strayed from the rest, draping itself over its owner's face. Before she could think about it, Anna had stepped toward Elsa and guided the wayward curl back to its place. It was soft as silk, slipping off her fingertips coyly.

 

She heard a sharp intake of breath and couldn't guess who it came from. They were standing close now, close enough that Anna could feel Elsa's body heat. If Anna rose up just a little on her toes, she could kiss Elsa again. She could put her hands on her shoulders without worrying about ruined epaulettes, oh, goodness, it had folds this time, she could grip that instead and even slide her hands under-

 

"I’m sorry, but I have to finish changing. I was looking for Gerda. Is she about?" Elsa said, her face closed off and cool, taking a step back away from her.

 

It was as abrupt and stinging as a slap across the face. Anna was nonplussed. She'd thought... Wait, was she the only one who was interested in kisses? Had Elsa not liked it? She attempted to hide her disappointment. "She’s in the, uh, bedroom. I think. Too many rooms, I might get lost in them."

 

Elsa looked at her expectantly and that was when Anna realized she was being sent away. Was Elsa that angry with her? Apparently so."I’ll go get her if you want," she said reluctantly. She was wrong. The etiquette lessons had backfired. She wished she’d grown up to be an uncouth savage so she wouldn’t have to say the exact opposite of what she wanted to do.

 

"Please. Thank you." Elsa shut the door in her face.

 

Anna stared at the barrier, her jaw swinging wide. She attempted to comprehend what just happened, like she’d just solved what should have been a very simple mathematical problem and arrived at an entirely unexpected answer.

 

She’d never been so soundly rejected before. And she could not appreciate the irony that her first experience would be at the hands of her husband. Wife. Whatever.

 

Elsa was turning out to be her first in many things. Like illicit passionate kisses in carriages and then being summarily ejected from her _husband’s_ presence like Elsa couldn’t stand the very sight of her.

 

Anna spun on her heel and went to find Gerda as she’d been _so kindly asked to._

And Master Flynn could go to hell.

 

* * *

 

“Did you two have a disagreement?”

 

Elsa stood in front of the mirror tying her cravat slowly—she was out of practice. “No.” She glanced at Gerda through the mirror. “Did Anna say something to you?”

 

“She seemed upset.” It was delivered with more than a trace of accusation.

 

The queen made a noncommittal sound, squinted at the mirror, and then sighed. The knot was crooked. She’d started to loosen it when Gerda let out a long-suffering sigh herself and motioned for Elsa to turn around.

 

“It’s usually the valet’s job to do this,” Gerda said, folding the cravat around Elsa’s collar. “The valet or the wife.”

 

Gerda would not know what those words did to her, but Elsa didn’t bat a lash. “Good thing you’re a wife, then. Give Harold my regards.”

 

Gerda tightened the cravat just a little too much on purpose. “You know what I mean,” she said sternly. “You shouldn’t be fighting on your wedding day.”

 

“No, I imagine we’ll have the rest of our lives for that.” Or however long it took for Anna to realize she didn’t want to be married to her anymore. The look Gerda sent her for that comment, though, had her shoulders slumping. “We didn’t fight. I was discourteous. Anna took offense.” _Rightfully_ _so_ , a voice in the back of her mind said.

 

The housekeeper frowned at Elsa. “You have excellent manners and you are well bred. Why would you do that to your own wife?”

 

Elsa shrugged. She couldn’t very well say that she had all but thrown Anna out of her room because she hadn’t wanted to kiss her. She had wanted very much to kiss Anna again, only Elsa didn’t trust herself not to do something else stupid or rash or both. Kissing already counted as both those and more, she just couldn’t think of the words right then. Feeling miserable seemed to make up for her lack of eloquence.

 

“I’ll apologize to her,” was the best Elsa could manage.

 

Gerda finished the knot. “There. And good, every marriage should start with a clean slate. Sit, I’ll put your hair up.”

 

A clean slate wasn’t possible for them—Elsa thought of the clause, the need for an heir, and how those important things had already tainted the marriage before it could begin. It wasn’t going to be a real marriage. It was never going to be a real one like her own parents had.

 

If only things could have gone differently. If only she wasn’t the last Arendelle. Well, _she_ was probably the reason why her parents had not produced another heir—for fear that that one would be like her and cursed with magic.

 

There was the self-pity again. Elsa sighed. She caught Gerda's eye in the mirror.

 

"It's nothing," she said, anticipating well-meaning prying. She didn’t think she could work up the effort to deflect it.

 

Gerda decided not to comment on the evasion and instead held up a handful of blonde hair. "I think you should leave your hair down for the party."

 

"I'll look ridiculous. I'm wearing men's clothes for this, if you'll recall." She gestured at the fresh white shirt and vest she wore. "I'm well aware I look nothing like a man, but—"

 

"Well, of course you don't look like a man," Gerda interrupted irritably. "I'm simply suggesting that you leave your hair down because you would look nice. It'd be an interesting twist." Then, slyly, she added, "Anna likes your hair."

 

It was a low blow, the aim precise. Elsa had to give her housekeeper credit for that. It made her want to ask about what else Anna had said, or if Gerda was making it up entirely, then she remembered Anna was probably not feeling charitable about her at the moment.

 

"Does she?" There it was. She hated how she could hear the pathetic undercurrent of hope in the query.

 

"Oh, she's always admired it," Gerda said airily. "And it's a shame when you put it up. No lady has ever attended a party in a jacket with her hair down. You'll make quite the splash."

 

"There are no ladies who attend parties in jackets," Elsa pointed out. "And if I make a 'splash', it'll probably be from stupidity. I'll be remembered as the queen who made a fool of herself at her own wedding party. And maybe cause a scandal."

 

Gerda's brows lifted. "You've already attended your own wedding looking like a man. Why not change it for the party? It's only for one night."

 

Elsa opened her mouth to refuse.

 

Then Gerda tossed down the gauntlet. "And if your wife likes it down?"

 

Silence.

 

To anybody else, Elsa's face displayed no extremes of emotion and was remarkably impassive given she was being cajoled into potentially scandalizing several hundred people at her own wedding party, but Gerda saw flickers of hope and yearning there that was quickly smothered under an avalanche of defeat. It broke her heart to see her little princess—Elsa would always be her little princess, coronated or not—struggle so, but she firmed her resolve and refused to feel guilty that she was striking Elsa where she was weakest.

 

"Fine," Elsa finally said. Her tone went cool, her hands folding in her lap. It was her royal negotiation pose. "I'll keep it down, but tied back. Like some men with long hair do."

 

It wasn't exactly what Gerda was aiming for, but she knew better than to push Elsa. She hummed as she began brushing.

 

* * *

 

Elsa didn't appear for the small luncheon that Anna had while waiting for the evening party to begin. Anna told herself she did not care because she was still smarting from that dismissal. Her parents were present, though, and their twin expressions of beaming pride were blinding. Anna was tempted to throw a hand over her eyes to preserve her sight. She settled for glowering at her sandwich instead.

 

"We're just so happy, darling," her mother, Queen Alice, said. They were somewhere in the Queen's chambers in a drawing room. "You were splendid in your dress, even if you did trip."

 

Anna groaned. "You don't have to remind me, Mother. _Everybody_ saw."

 

"And after all that practice!" Queen Alice chortled. She was one of the members of nobility who was actually well-liked in person. She found amusement in all things that crossed her path, including her children. It was said that Anna had inherited her sunny disposition, though Anna disagreed—what mother teased her own offspring so mercilessly?

 

"You did well," her father soothed. "And you didn't trip too far. Elsa did catch you." He beamed at her again, the very picture of a proud papa. Anna squinted against the glare. 

 

"Oh, yes, it was rather romantic, wasn't it?" Queen Alice said. "Elsa looked so fetching in Alexander's old uniform! I wouldn't have imagined it, but it suits her. Excellent tailoring work on that uniform as well, not a single wrinkle or fold out of place."

 

Anna knew of one very good reason to have a few folds in a uniform. Her face warmed. She cursed her fair complexion as her mother watched her with an interested look.

 

"I knew it," Queen Alice crowed in triumph.

 

Anna tried valiantly to control the blush, now cursing her mother for her astuteness and for passing her complexion down.

 

"Knew what?" Her father asked.

 

"Our daughter! And Elsa!"

 

Anna wondered if feigning a swoon might distract her mother long enough to divert her attention away from the subject of her and Elsa. She could see the scene playing out in her mind: she'd flop like a landed fish on the floor and her mother would toe her prone form and maybe lean over to examine her a bit, then conclude Anna was hale and continue on without a hitch. It really had no chance of working—Anna had the constitution of a horse. She'd never fainted in her life and starting now would only give another story for her mother to embarrass her with, probably somewhere along the lines of: _"Oh, that time when Anna decided to take a nap on the drawing room floor! On her wedding day, no less! What a silly dear, sometimes she forgets that people sleep on beds."_

 

So, like any child about to endure parental humiliation, she hissed, " _Mother!"_

 

It only encouraged her, of course, but Anna wasn’t given to suffering in silence.

 

"Our daughter likes Elsa in men’s clothes," Queen Alice continued. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I shan't tell anyone." Which was such a lie if there ever was one, the sheer audacity of it making Anna's jaw fly open in outrage. At the same time, however, she nearly sagged over in relief. She'd thought her mother had seen some incriminating evidence of the carriage ride kiss, like there was a red flag planted somewhere on her person that proclaimed to the entire world that she'd writhed in Elsa's lap and enjoyed every second of it. She certainly didn't want the entire world to know and if her mother knew, well, she might as well find some hermit cave to live out the rest of her days. Maybe she could share it with Kristoff, wherever he was now.

 

She was starting to see the appeal of traveling the world and not telling anybody where you were going until you were already there.

 

"You have lovely molars, dear," her mother commented. Anna clamped her mouth shut, molars clicking together and narrowly missed biting on her tongue. "Elsa is still lovely in dresses. She really does favor Marina, doesn't she?”

 

"Quite," her father agreed. "The girl needs to put on some damn weight, though. Practically skin and bones."

 

"Oh, she has a wife for that now," Queen Alice said, grinning wickedly. "Our little Anna will be taking care of her."

 

" _Mother_ ," Anna hissed again. Not that it wasn't true. It was just the way that her mother had said it, sharing that private little smile with her father that made Anna frown and want to leave the room.

 

"I'm sure Elsa will be a lovely husband," her mother placated. "Is the correct term 'wife', though? I find that 'husband' works better after seeing that uniform on her. Goodness, the stares she drew. Did you see them, dear? I thought that French countess across the aisle was going to eat her alive. At a wedding, no less! How shameless, though I suppose one could be forgiven since the groom is exceptionally good-looking.”

 

Anna's eyes widened. _Wait, what?_ She opened her mouth to demand her mother to expound on the detail of “that French countess,” but Queen Alice pointed to her unfinished sandwich. "You should eat, sweetheart. We wouldn't want you fainting at your own wedding party."

 

Sullenly, Anna bit in. Best not to ask, she decided. Her mother might interpret any mentions of French countesses as jealousy. Which it wasn’t. "How long will you stay in Arendelle?"

 

"Probably just a few more days," her father answered. "Best not leave the throne vacant for long."

 

"We'll be out of your hair soon, sweetheart," Queen Alice said. "I'm sure you'll want to spend some time with your new husband." Her parents exchanged that knowing smile again. It made her skin crawl a little.

 

* * *

 

Most of the guests arrived to the wedding party by evening. The atmosphere was jovial and excited—the royal couple did involve a famously reclusive queen and another woman. And a wedding between two women! It'd been centuries since that had last happened in a royal family. It was more common amongst the lower class and lesser nobility, but royalty was another thing entirely. There was the whole matter of blood heirs, after all.

 

And that was one of the most heated topics of discussion that evening.

 

"If Arendelle and Corona wanted to join houses, why didn't Prince Kristoff marry the queen?" One lady wondered. Prince Kristoff of Corona was not in attendance. Rumor was that the prince was inflicted with a near terminal case of wanderlust and was gallivanting all over the world's remote mountain regions. News had likely not reached him that his sister was marrying yet even though official word was announced almost a year ago. "That would have wrapped up that little issue neatly!"

 

Another lady shushed her. "Both are next in line to their thrones! And Arendelle and Corona are so far from each other, they'd hardly be able to rule their own countries."

 

"Arendelle will be in trouble if no heir is legitimized within a few years," the Duke of Weselton was heard muttering to a circle of followers. Weselton's fortunes depended heavily on Arendelle. "Our own trade will be threatened if the kingdom falls apart over something as simple as ascension!"

 

“I’ve heard marriage contracts for two women are strange,” one guest was heard saying. “That there is room for...openness.”

 

This comment left a speculative gleam in more than a few eyes. Both the groom and bride were attractive. A few laughed privately and said marriage contracts in general were flexible. Mistresses and lovers abounded, after all.

 

The attendees knew better than to say any of this within earshot of the newlyweds or King Frederick and Queen Alice. It would be their heads as both Arendelle and Corona had considerable clout.

 

While the main ballroom was abuzz, Elsa waited at the foot of the grand staircase for Anna. Boot heels clicked on the floor as the queen tried not to pace. She tugged at a lapel. Fidgeted, sighed, then crossed her arms over her chest to keep her hands still.

 

She disliked parties: the socializing, the politics, the veiled meanings behind seemingly innocuous conversation. She’d rarely attended them when she was younger, was excused from them entirely after her parents died, and avoided them again after. This one was her first since her coronation. It also shared the distinction of being her first ball with Anna.

 

When Anna came down the stairs behind her mother and father, she saw Elsa leaning against the wall, face turned away and hands tucked under her elbows. She was both frustratingly handsome and beautiful again. No more austere military uniform; she wore a white shirt and black vest under a cobalt tail coat. An elegant black silk cravat was tied around her white collar and tucked under the vest. Her long hair was brushed back into a unbraided fall of platinum and secured by simple blue ribbon at her nape. Buckskin-colored trousers accented slim thighs and knee-high black boots polished to a shine completed the ensemble.

 

Anna still hadn’t forgiven her and wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all—couldn’t Elsa at least have the courtesy to have some kind of deformity for Anna to fixate on? Perhaps develop a mysterious scar or a wen? Was that so much to ask for? She was aware that her thoughts were taking a ludicrous turn now, and she laid the blame at her husband’s well-shod feet.

 

Elsa noticed them and bowed like a gentleman before the king and queen. “Good evening, Aunt, Uncle,” she murmured.

 

“Oh, my, you are a sight,” Queen Alice said, taking Elsa’s face between her hands and making her bend down to allow the queen to kiss her cheek. While King Frederick was a bear of a man, Queen Alice was half a head shorter than Anna and just topped Elsa’s shoulder. “Anna will have to beat your admirers away.”

 

Anna wasn’t sure if she wanted to beat her mother or Elsa or the admirers (a French countess was allegedly counted amongst them) for that comment. Maybe all of them.

 

Elsa laughed softly, her face warming. She was quite fond of the queen.“You are prone to hyperbole, Aunt Alice,” she said. “But thank you.”

 

King Frederick clapped Elsa on the shoulder with a grin as though she were his son. “It was a good wedding. You did well with the planning. I understand that you’ve planned some kind of entertainment for tonight?”

 

“Something like that,” Elsa answered vaguely. Her eyes had drifted to Anna. Her body shifted subtly, coiling like a cat at attention. The king and queen exchanged silent looks and proceeded to the party, leaving Anna and Elsa alone. Neither of the women noticed, but both parents looked over their shoulders with slight smiles.

 

“Hello,” Elsa greeted and bowed. The etiquette lessons made Anna curtsey in response, however reluctant she was to bend her knees. Then Elsa took her wife’s hand and brushed her lips over the back of it. She had the white gloves on again.

 

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Her voice was a whisper, her warm breath sliding over the back of her hand. “I was rude.”

 

Anna tried to stay angry. Nobody ought to get off this easy, she thought. It was just unfair that Elsa could win her over so easily with nothing but sincere eyes and soft words. But she found her resistance crumbling against her warm breath and smiled, her stance relaxing. She hadn’t even realized she was tense. “It’s okay. I guess I surprised you.”

 

Elsa lowered her hand, but didn’t release it, her thumb rubbed gentle circles on the back. Anna found it distracting and soothing. “You… caught me at a bad moment. I’m sorry to take it out on you.”

 

For some reason, her heart tripped. Elsa was just so… _much_. She was so sincere and serious and her mother was right, she really was a sight. Despite her clothes, she was absolutely gorgeous, an appealing mix of masculine and feminine qualities. Only four years had passed, but this Elsa was someone completely different than the one Anna remembered. She looked older and more mature, her bearing so regal that it unconsciously commanded attention and respect from those around her, like a lion. No, not a lion, Anna decided. She’d seen a cat in a traveling circus that had come through Corona once. It was smaller than a lion and had a dense white spotted coat and a magnificent tail. The proprietor of the circus, eager to entertain the royal family, had said it was a cat that lived in the highest remote mountains and difficult to find, its fur blending in with the snowy rocks it roamed and strangely incapable of roaring. _A snow leopard!_ That was it.

 

Anna smiled. Elsa reminded her of that snow leopard, quiet and secretive. And Elsa didn’t need to _try_ to be beautiful—she simply was. And she didn’t need to roar either—her low voice worked quite well for her.

 

She ought to be jealous that someone like Elsa existed, but Elsa belonged to her and that realization brought another thrill. It made her feel invincible and reckless. Before she could think about it, she said, “Will you kiss me again?”

 

She could feel the shock jump through Elsa’s fingers, but held on before she could pull away. Elsa looked surprised and uncomfortable, cool composure gone, and her gaze averted.

 

“Anna,” she said, taking a step back. Anna followed. “We have a party to go to, we have guests waiting for us—”

 

“They can wait,” she said. “You’re the _queen_ , Elsa. You can do whatever you want.”

 

She tried to back up again, tugging ineffectually at her hand, but the younger woman refused to relinquish her hold and continued to follow like a bloodhound on the scent. 

 

“I just want a kiss,” she insisted. “Is that too much to ask? We’re married. It is allowed, you know.”

 

She didn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Anna.  She was starting to look panicked and trapped as she retreated. Her back hit the wall. Anna stepped into her space and, daringly, gripped her lapels to keep her from escaping. She’d never realized how tall Elsa was. The height difference wasn’t all that great, but she found that she liked that Elsa was taller.

 

“Elsa,” Anna whispered. The queen was staring at the space beyond Anna’s shoulder with a determinedly blank expression, silent as a grave, and clearly of the mind that if she pretended this wasn’t happening it might come true.

 

Fine. If she was going to be like that, then Anna was going to enjoy the moment and her newfound courage. She started with what was immediately before her. The tailcoat was undeniably well-made, the lapels black satin. She rubbed the material between her fingers experimentally, liking the sound it made. The black vest contrasted well with the blue coat and the white shirt. She wondered if it was the same white shirt as before. And if Elsa still wore nothing beneath it.

 

Wicked thoughts. Was this what happened when people married? It was like a whole new world was opening for her. She eyed the black cravat and the intricate knot. “Did you tie this, Elsa?”

 

She watched Elsa’s throat work. Finally, the taller woman answered. “No. Gerda helped.” Her voice was hoarse.

 

“My father is not very good at tying his either,” Anna said conversationally, as though they might be speaking of the weather. “My mother has to help him sometimes.”

 

Elsa went quiet again.

 

“I’d help you put yours on,” Anna said.

 

She released a held breath. “Anna, someone could come—”

 

“Then you’d best hurry up and kiss me,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

 

The queen seemed to struggle with herself, then fixed her gaze back over Anna’s shoulder. Stout refusal.

 

She refused to be offended. “Elsa, do you find me unattractive?”

 

Her head whipped back to stare at Anna incredulously. “What? No! Of course not!” They were both surprised at the vehemence of the statement. Much softer, Elsa continued, “I find you very beautiful, Anna.”

 

Anna blushed and had to look away. She’d been described as pretty and beautiful and all manner of flowery words before, but there was something about the way Elsa said it that made her believe it. It left her feeling suddenly shy and unsure.

 

“Why won’t you kiss me, then?” She asked, the question sounding more hurt than she had intended.

 

The lapels rose and fell under Anna’s hands as Elsa sighed. “It’s not because I don’t think you’re beautiful, Anna.” A gloved hand rose to brush the auburn fringe away from her eyes. Fingers traced her cheek and tipped her chin up, their eyes meeting.

 

Elsa’s expression was inscrutable. “If I kiss you, will that convince you that I think you’re pretty and then we can attend our own party?”

 

Anna had to smile at the tart way that was delivered, knowing there wasn’t any real sting behind it. She feigned deep consideration, then nodded gravely. “Yes, I find those terms agreeable. A kiss for a party.”

 

The corner of Elsa’s mouth quirked. Then she controlled it and, slowly, bent her head just as Anna rose up.

 

Their lips met tenderly, sweetly, like a long cherished wish. Anna tried to deepen it, her hands pulling Elsa down to her, but the blonde tempered the kiss, keeping her hunger in check with light teasing brushes that whetted her desire like a knife. Elsa never stayed in one spot for long, her touch subtle, skimming over the corner of her mouth one moment and then returning to press against her lower lip again. Nerve endings sang, coming alive in places Anna didn’t know existed. She unconsciously pressed closer to Elsa, melding their bodies together.

 

And Elsa didn’t fight. Rather, her arm curled around her waist just as Anna’s knees might give out. The hand on her chin slid back to cup the nape of her neck, careful not to tangle fingers into the bun her hair was styled in this time. And when Elsa swept her tongue lightly against Anna’s lower lip, the younger girl shuddered and released a soft groan into her mouth.

 

When they parted, both of them were gasping. And when their eyes met, it was so heated and sultry that Anna yanked Elsa down again for another. _Thank god for lapels_ , Anna thought, dazed. _They ought to be made a national treasure._

 

Their third kiss was hard and bruising, but short. Elsa broke away this time.

 

“Anna, no,” she said breathlessly. She was leaning against the wall like her own legs couldn’t hold her up and her face was heavy-lidded and red. “Not here.”

 

Her heart leapt. “Then later?”

 

Elsa closed her eyes, expression pained. “I don’t know.”

 

“What? Why not? Elsa—”

 

“Anna, please,” she said. She brushed her thumb over Anna’s lips to silence her. “It’s not that I don’t find you desirable. But we can’t do this here and now. We have a few hundred guests waiting for us and the longer we stay here, the more likely someone is going to come across and we’ll have to deal with our first indiscretion before we can have our first party,” she explained, hoping Anna would understand and stop looking at her like that because her own control was barely cobbled together as it was.

 

Anna studied her for a long moment, chewing on her lip, before nodding. “Okay.” She reluctantly stepped back and winced. “Sorry.”

 

Elsa looked down and saw the wrinkled lapels. With a faint smile, she simply smoothed them out. “There. Good as new.” She spread her arms. “How do I look?”

 

“Fine.” She wanted to say more, like how she’d like to not go to the party and hole up in some private corner, but Elsa was right. Anna stood back and let Elsa straighten her dress, shivering slightly where her hands touched. It was by no means suggestive, but she seemed to be developing a heightened sensitivity to Elsa’s touch in general. Her lips in particular were a prime example.

 

“You’re fine as well,” Elsa said when she was done. They simply stood there for a long moment, both aware of how silly they must have appeared to an outsider, but the feeling was so mutual and shared, like an inside joke, that it was hard to feel embarrassed about it. 

 

Then Elsa smiled again, her eyes taking on an unexpectedly playful gleam. She looked so happy.  

 

“Shall we, my lady?”

 

Anna grinned back and slid her hand under Elsa’s arm. “Of course, _my lord_ ,” she returned, warmth filling her.

 

* * *

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all the people who've left lovely comments, I really do appreciate them. And also, I feel quite bad for this, but I forgot to credit my beta reader, TheKyttin13 (on ff.net), for the past two chapters! Forgive me! Thanks goes out to him for reading over these chapters and fixing my poor grammar.
> 
> Again, constructive criticism is always appreciated. While this fic is intended to have a lot of angst (from easily avoided misunderstandings, but that would be no fun), I don't want it to be a depressing stew of that, so this chapter was a bit of a break. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Kai was stationed as herald outside the ballroom and waiting rather impatiently. He glanced at his pocket watch, wondering what could be taking the queen and the princess so long. It’d been almost a quarter hour since King Frederick and Queen Alice had arrived. Queen Alice had given him a most unusual smile as she went in, stopping briefly to say that the royal couple would be arriving soon.

 

He huffed. All the guests had arrived and he was growing anxious about so many members of nobility gathered in one place with easy access to spirits; those situations never boded well, especially for the servants. And this was such a special occasion, good lord, if the queen did not come soon, he would ready a search party and—

 

Kai’s eyes widened and he unconsciously straightened. He’d just spotted Queen Elsa walking down the hall with her new wife, and just in the nick of time, too. _Finally_ , the butler thought. They were walking leisurely, their attention on each other. The queen looked impeccable in her suit and Princess Anna was lovely in her ballgown.

 

As he waited, Kai noted the relaxed set of the queen’s shoulders and the easy way she walked with her new wife at her side. _A most definite improvement from earlier today,_ he thought with approval, remembering how strained Queen Elsa had been. Well, it’d been hard few years for her, but Kai imagined the marriage might be just the thing for the queen. The happiest times he recalled seeing the queen was when Princess Anna was visiting.

 

"I like your hair down like that," he heard the princess say to Queen Elsa as they approached.

 

"Good evening, your majesties." Kai bowed. They both nodded a greeting and stood just outside the doors.

 

"Ready?" Elsa asked. The princess smiled and nodded.

 

Kai opened the doors.

 

"My Lords and Ladies, I announce the arrival of Her Royal Majesty Elsa, Queen of Arendelle accompanied by Her Royal Highness Anna, Princess-Consort of Arendelle and Princess of Corona!"

 

 _So, that’s what I am_ , Anna thought with faint amusement. _A princess consort._

 

The ballroom was immense and easily contained several hundred people, maybe even a thousand. Round dining tables and chairs were set up in a ring in the ballroom, leaving space for dancing later. Most of the guests were seated, glasses in hand, while footmen weaved through with gleaming platters laden with more drinks and finger foods. Everything was awash in a soft candlelit glow from grand hanging chandeliers, making the marble and dark wood interior gleam warmly. An orchestra was settled in a corner and a larger long table at the head of the ballroom by the imperial staircase, just below the doors. Anna could see her parents seated at that table, the head reserved for her and Elsa.

 

Everybody stood up in unison.

 

"How many people did you invite?" Anna whispered to Elsa, eyes wide.

 

"I’m not sure," Elsa admitted. "There were so many foreign relations tangentially related to us and every other noble family that I left it to Kai, who probably handed it off to someone else to arrange with your family."

 

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people in one place." Anna pressed herself closer to Elsa nervously. "Elsa, you’d better catch me if I trip again. It’s not my fault if I get clumsy because you decided to host both kingdoms for our party."

 

That made Elsa smile. "You’ll be fine."

 

But Elsa did make sure to navigate Anna around the curved stairway lest she trip on the hem of her dress. As they descended, Anna’s knees began to shake. She could feel every single eyeball in the place fixed on her, the room going quiet to watch them. Anna clutched Elsa's arm like a lifeline.

 

Elsa glanced down in alarm.

 

"What's wrong?" Elsa whispered. She slowed their pace just enough so they were still moving, but would not be hurrying anywhere soon.

 

"Um." Her mouth refused to move. She’d never had so many people focused on her. Most people didn't watch Anna much even back at home in Corona. It was usually Kristoff who'd been the center of attention, or her parents. Even the wedding hadn’t been that bad, especially when she wasn’t looking straight at people.

 

Elsa examined Anna's pale, drawn face and understood. She placed her other hand over the one Anna had curled on her arm and angled her head down to speak quietly into her ear as though she were murmuring intimacies.

 

"Do you remember that time we went ice skating in the pond just outside the castle one summer? You were seven and I was..." She deliberately trailed off, waiting for Anna to respond.

 

"Ten," Anna whispered back. Her mouth was dry, heart pounding. "Y-you froze the-the pond. That's right. It was, um...August and, uh..."

 

"Too hot," Elsa finished. Her lips curved, pleased that Anna remembered. "I used to get dizzy spells. Do you recall that?"

 

Anna was nodding and not staring blindly out at the crowd anymore with panicked eyes, her focus turning to Elsa.

 

"And you didn't like the heat and you'd sometimes stay in the castle where it was cool. But I was bored—"

 

"You often were," Elsa said dryly. A small smile flickered over Anna's lips.

 

"I was seven years old, what did you expect?"

 

"Not for you to play with the suits of armor! Kai nearly had a fit when you knocked over the one that was supposed to be five hundred years old and belonged to some ancestor or other."

 

Anna laughed, remembering the incident. "And Kristoff ran off with the dented helm to show some friends—"

 

"And we were banished outside to the pond for the rest of the day."

 

She would have said more when she noticed there were no more steps beneath her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise—they were at the bottom of the stairs and she couldn't see the tops of the crowd's heads anymore. She looked at Elsa in amazement, but Elsa was already leading them to the table, her expression composed and looking straight ahead. Her hand was still over Anna's, though, their fingers touching. Anna relaxed her grip on Elsa's forearm and twined their fingers together, squeezing Elsa's briefly in thanks. She thought she could see the ghost of a smile before the footmen pulled their chairs back. They parted to stand before their seats.

 

"Don't sit yet," Elsa murmured, lips barely moving. Anna paused in time, her knees just starting to bend.

 

"Thank you for joining us," Elsa said, her voice carrying throughout the ballroom. It was a voice that Anna hadn’t heard her use before—it wasn’t yelling, but still strong and clear. "Arendelle welcomes all in attendance to celebrate the joining of Houses Arendelle and Corona."

 

Then the queen sat down before anybody could react, leaving startled guests trying to decide whether to clap or sit. There was a smattering mix of applause as well as scraping chairs. Anna suppressed a grin, enjoying their confusion.

 

"That was quick," Anna said after sinking into her chair. "I thought you were going to give a long speech."

 

"Hardly," Elsa said. "I’m hungry. I missed lunch." Elsa blinked at the look Anna aimed at her. "What?"

 

"Well, you missed a wonderful lunch with me and my parents," Anna said, glancing to her right. Her parents were seated next to her and speaking to a dinner partner. The footmen began serving.

 

"Oh?" Elsa’s brow lifted. "I’m sorry I missed it."

 

Anna waved her off. "Nothing happened. Just… the usual. My parents being my parents." She leaned closer to Elsa, abruptly aware how long it’d been since they had last conducted a real conversation. "Where were you, though?"

 

It occurred to Elsa that Anna might be thinking she’d been avoiding her during that luncheon. Which… was true. It had not taken that long to dress and her bravery had been notably absent at the time.

 

"Just finishing up some last minute work that had cropped up," she said. It was a half-truth. She had been in her study going over work, but she had also been incapable of completing any of it. Nerves and stress had been taking a toll on her, though she was feeling more relaxed now.

 

"Oh, what kind of work?"

 

Elsa blinked. Anna had never shown an interest in her work, or really, any kind of work involved in the kingdom's daily running. And it was a bit disconcerting to have been caught in her white lie, thinking that if she brought up something she thought Anna had no interest in, she would not have to divulge anything, even if it was (mostly) the truth. So, as Elsa was considering the quandary before her, the spark of interest in Anna's eyes and her smile began to fade, to be replaced with a trace of hurt and resignation.

 

"You don't have to tell me," Anna said, pulling back. Elsa felt the withdrawal as acutely as a broken promise. "I probably wouldn't get it anyway."

 

 _What?_ That hadn't been what she'd been thinking. Or had it? She _had_ thought Anna didn't have any interest in government and business affairs. And to be fair, when she thought of Anna, she didn't think of a great mind for politics or academics. She saw the carefree girl who'd included her in childhood games, who wrote her letters that brought relief to loneliness, who was lovely beyond words, and so vivacious. A girl who didn't belong in a stuffy library or office, but in fashionable dresses in a glittering ballroom much like this one, or outside astride a spirited horse. It wasn't that she thought Anna was incapable of mundane work, but Elsa simply didn't associate her with it. At all. Anna was above that.

 

 _And is that all I think of her? No_ , Elsa thought. _Anna has other qualities, it’s just…_

 

She had no idea. It felt not dissimilar to being cracked over the head from behind with a rock, she was so stunned. Her brain was of no use at all.

 

By the time Elsa regained control of her vocal functions, Anna had turned away to look down at her plate.

 

"Anna," Elsa started, alarmed at the rapid turn of the conversation. "I—no, I mean, it's not that I don't think you wouldn't understand it—"

 

"I said it's okay, Elsa," Anna said, her gaze fixed down on the table. There was something in her voice that made Elsa's throat close up in guilt. "It really is."

 

She knew it wasn't, and any platitude or explanation attempt would not remedy her blunder. How had she managed to strike a nerve so fast? They'd barely just started speaking! But she had no choice but to comply. She nodded stiffly and turned to her own plate, her appetite gone.

 

Her stomach felt queasy and tight from helplessness.

 

She'd botched it _again._

She was beginning to think she shouldn't have married at all.

 

* * *

 

 

The champagne was excellent. The food was excellent. Everything was excellent. But Elsa was being careful around her again, her manners painfully proper and exact. Even her posture was stiff, her back so straight Anna half-expected to see a broom handle jammed up against it.

 

She glanced at Elsa's gloved hands clenched in her lap; the cloth was stretched taut over the knuckles. The state of Elsa’s hands was usually a good indicator of her mood.

 

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and touched Elsa’s arm. Elsa jumped and shot her a tense, surprised look.

 

"It's a party." Anna tried to smile reassuringly. "You should be enjoying it."

 

She was awarded with a bitter laugh. "Anna, I’m not sure I should."

 

Her eyebrows drew up. She wondered if Elsa's change in mood was from some misguided notion that she hadn't upheld her duties or something similar. Kristoff used to get like that: one moment happy and then the next nearly drowning in melancholy. Or brooding. Both Kristoff and Elsa brooded a lot.

 

"Of course you do. It's a party. Everybody likes parties." Anna rubbed at Elsa's hand, wishing she'd let up on the death grip. Any harder and Elsa might crush her other hand. "What's got you all twisted up?"

 

Elsa gave her a disbelieving look.

 

"I really don't know, Elsa," she said patiently. Just like she'd say to Kristoff.

 

"Earlier..." Elsa frowned deeply. "About... work."

 

"Okay..." She tilted her head and chewed on her lip, perplexed. Not royal duties? "I'm not really getting where you're going with this. I'm sorry."

 

"No, you shouldn't be apologizing." Elsa looked down at their hands. "I said—or I suppose I _didn't_ say what I'd been doing during lunch."

 

 _Oh. That._ Anna had put it to the back of her mind. She was used to that sort of thing—being told that there was important work that had to be done and getting a nonplussed look if she happened to inquire about it. Like she'd just asked someone to go to the moon and fetch her a bit of cheese to go with her tea or something. Why would the spare, a female, be asking about important work? She needn't worry about such things. Nor be included in them. Run along now, perhaps work on your embroidering? Practice scales on the pianoforte? Surely any suitor would be impressed…

 

"—getting any work done," she heard Elsa say.

 

She blinked. "Wait, what?"

 

Elsa was startled. "Did you—did you not hear what I said? I said I wasn't actually getting much done. It was just some business proposals looking for investors."

 

"Oh." Was Elsa telling her out of pity? That would be even worse. Anna tried to think of something to say, something to get Elsa to stop because she didn’t want a conversation about something that Elsa felt obligated to tell her. "Uh, well-"

 

"You may already know this, but Arendelle’s wealth comes from our gold mines," Elsa rushed, clearly feeling the creeping awkwardness and attempting to hold it at bay. "Arendelle’s land isn’t particularly tillable and mountains aren’t a great commodity, but the gold mines mean we can expand through investments into foreign industries, such that—"

 

"Elsa, stop." Anna couldn’t quite hold back her smile. "You don’t have to pitch your royal speech to me. Practically everybody knows why Arendelle is rich."

 

Elsa flushed and cleared her throat. “Well.”

 

She squeezed Elsa’s hand. "You don’t have to tell me about it. I doubt I’d understand at all what you do." And she really doubted she would. Having spent most of her life expected to be married off had meant more time spent with tutors in music and dance than history and mathematics.

 

Elsa’s brow flicked down as she studied her. Anna didn’t know what her thoughts were. But Elsa’s hands finally relaxed.

 

"All right." Anna had the feeling it wasn’t—Elsa didn’t look entirely convinced, but it was enough for now.

 

* * *

 

 

"A toast to my daughter and daughter-in-law!" King Frederick bellowed sometime after the main course had been served, flute glass high in the air.

 

"To Elsa and Anna!"

 

Glasses rose and several "here, here's!" carried down the ballroom. Anna raised up her glass with muted enthusiasm and sipped. She had never been able to hold her alcohol and the thought of dancing while tipsy, however entertaining, would end in embarrassment. And more stories for her mother, which was the last thing Anna wanted.

 

Anna was in good spirits, though. Somewhere between the second and third course, a footman had placed a small bowl of chocolates next to her plate. Her eyes had searched out other place settings and, not finding a trace of similar sweets, Anna knew that the source behind the treat was sitting right next to her, expression innocent as an angel’s.

 

She’d very nearly leaned over and kissed that look of studied oblivion off Elsa’s face. Anna had settled for brushing the back of her hand against the one Elsa had resting between their chairs. The tablecloth hid the view, but Elsa still colored faintly at the touch. Goodness, but she did blush easily.

 

"Thank you," Anna had whispered.

 

Elsa, not looking at her, had allowed a tiny nod.

 

The chocolates were delicious—she’d discreetly shared them with Elsa despite her protests (“You need to put on some weight.”). Elsa had even remembered what kind she liked. Anna found it ridiculously pleasing, and she kept continually glancing at Elsa throughout the dinner as though the queen was a withheld present, a gift that she wasn't allowed to have until midnight, but where her eyes wander to in anticipation.

 

And Anna fairly thrummed with that anticipation. She didn’t know precisely for what—perhaps the dancing? She and Elsa would have the first dance, of course. Where more people would be watching them. For some reason, the prospect didn’t make her knees knock like when they first entered, perhaps because she wouldn’t have to _look_ at everyone. If she focused on Elsa like before she’d probably be all right. Anna cursed her lack of grace and wondered who she could have gotten it from; neither of her parents were so clumsy.

 

She snuck another glance at Elsa. The queen had her hand curled around her glass, elbow upon her chair armrest, face placid. The picture of polite interest, not quite detached, but neither was Elsa entirely there as guests talked animatedly amongst themselves.

 

Elsa was actually thinking about dancing as well. More to the point, she was going over all the steps of the first dance she would be performing with Anna. For it was certainly a performance; there wasn’t really any question of enjoyment for Elsa, but she wanted to make sure she did it perfectly for Anna. Fairy tales never mentioned graceless princes and knights, after all. They didn’t mention adorably clumsy princesses either, but the dance was for Anna, not her. Unconsciously, her fingers began tapping the beat of the waltz on her glass in time with how each step would go in her mind.

 

 _One, two, three_ … _One, two, three…_

_“The gentleman leads and the lady enhances his movements, his steps,” the etiquette master said, voice echoing in the empty ballroom._

_“The dance is for my fiance,” Elsa said. She crossed her arms, her shirt and trousers still crisp and not yet damp from the trials of practice. “It is for her… pleasure.”_

_“Understood, your majesty, but the dance is not only for one or the other. It is a partnership. Both parties must move together, enjoy the dance together. You are attempting to do all the work yourself.”_

_Elsa sighed. “I don’t know how well my partner will dance. I’ve never seen her dance formally.”_

_“Have more faith, your majesty. I am sure Princess Anna will be more skilled than you think.”_

_“All the same—”_

_“I beg your pardon, your majesty, but it is not ‘all the same.’  Dancing does require a level of trust from both the gentleman and the lady. You must trust in each other to have a good dance. You are overthinking and letting your focus spread too thin. Try to enjoy the dance and let it come out of you naturally.”_

_Elsa gave him an exasperated look. “I just want to dance well and prepare for missteps.”_

_He sighed now. They’d had this conversation more often than he cared to count. “Your majesty, you are talented. You dance excellently in the female role, but when you shift to the gentleman role, your steps become too calculated and controlled. You lose your grace and become a puppet. You turn wooden. The princess will see it.”_

_“I don’t see how. I’ve done all the steps correctly. I’m just not all that comfortable with it.”_

_“Yes, and that is part of it. Your steps are correct, but you are stiff, rigid. Your movements will reflect on your partner and she will also become so. Dancing is fluid. Relax.”_

_She fidgeted, gaze falling on the faint chalk marks on the floor. She knew the dances, she’d certainly practiced them enough. But she could feel that she was becoming stiff in her steps, her legs and abdomen tensing. Luckily, she had enough control to not clutch the hands of her partner, but sometimes it was a close thing._

_The etiquette master motioned for them to try again. A young noblewoman, one of his students, approached the queen as the pianoforte began to play. Elsa bowed, her partner curtsied. The noblewoman—a girl, really, and enthralled at the chance to dance with the queen—looked up at Elsa with dazzled eyes. Elsa didn’t notice it, her brows furrowing in concentration._

_She tried to imagine dancing with Anna. Blue eyes, freckled cheeks, her ever-present smile, rich auburn hair. Elsa loved Anna’s hair, all the colors that were reflected off it, especially when it was sun-warmed. She could still remember the gentle curve of her neck from when she was in Corona. And, of course, when she thought about Anna’s throat, she imagined kissing it, wondered how soft her skin would be. And then those thoughts would lead into fantasies of burying her face in Anna’s hair while her hands explored her body._

_Anna would be warm. So warm. Perhaps she would even enjoy what Elsa did, though Elsa tried not to hope for it. It was better to busy herself with things she could actually work on, like dancing. And wedding planning. And buying too many gifts. They were only tangible things to hold Anna to Arendelle for as long as she could._

_Her arms jerked. Elsa looked down and saw a girl’s face wincing back at her. She’d been gripping her dancing partner’s hands too hard and immediately released her. She stepped back._

_“My apologies.” Her words felt stilted, even to her._

_The etiquette master had seen it—the queen had drifted off again. It wasn’t unusual at all for many lords and ladies to tune out the world and allow muscle memory move their feet for them, but the queen seemed to go off to unhappy places. She’d never displayed such a tendency when she danced as a lady, but impending marriage made people do strange things. Though for all intents and purposes, the queen didn’t seem to object her betrothal. Everybody in the castle knew how much time she was pouring into the preparations, to the point that she was neglecting some of her other duties. No one said anything about it, of course._

_“Your majesty,” he started. She looked at him expressionlessly. “Remember to stay in the moment. Do not try to think ahead.”_

 

_She nodded, but he doubted she’d heard him. “My apologies,” she said again. “But let’s continue this another time.”  She was already striding away before anybody could react, throwing the doors open in her wake._

And the moment had finally arrived for the first dance. Their first dance.

 

Elsa rose and found herself feeling steady. With a bow, she extended her hand.

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

* * *

 

 

Anna could practically hear the sighs from every female in the room. She couldn't really blame them—who didn't want to be asked for a dance so gallantly? And for such a significant dance, too.

 

She smiled brilliantly and slid her hand into Elsa's. The queen was graceful, but her hand shook ever so slightly as Anna rose. Elsa led them to the dance floor. A gloved hand rested lightly on the small of her back, the other holding Anna's hand aloft. Anna settled a hand where Elsa’s shoulder and arm met, still smiling.

 

They held still, waiting for the orchestra to begin. There was a certain palpable excitement in the air. Anna couldn’t tell if it was from her and Elsa or their audience. Their eyes met and, just before the music started, Elsa released a breath. Her body relaxed under Anna’s hands and she smiled back. Elsa was luminous.

 

The queen had always been graceful. Anna remembered even as a child, Elsa moved with a certain purpose and poise that belied her relative youth. She'd have called it fine breeding that made Elsa the way she was—generations upon generations of equally beautiful and graceful people mating to arrive at the current queen of Arendelle. But there was something about Elsa that separated her from other lords and ladies who boasted similar lineages. Elsa was simply special, something ethereal and elusive, and that kind of person didn't just happen upon you.

 

You had to seize them, hold on to them, to make them yours.

 

So, Anna seized the moment. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen Elsa in years, had never even thought of kissing Elsa prior to today, had never considered how everything could change when she thought she was simply doing her own duty by becoming Elsa's bride. This wasn’t duty. It felt closer to… need. Like something vital and necessary.

 

At that moment, she knew she wanted Elsa like she'd never wanted anything before.

 

Her world closed in, focusing, sharpening, on only what was before her. She was aware of nothing but Elsa. Elsa's hands on her, warm and simply _there_ , holding her. Elsa's closeness, not touching her, but the same—simply _there_ , like a comforting presence. Only Anna didn't quite feel comfortable. She wasn't discomfitted, exactly, but it was like her senses were heightened and attuned to only her partner and it was shocking her nerves alive, prickling her skin, and warming her as thoroughly as sitting too close to a fire after a winter’s day. Her heart throbbed as they moved together.

 

She could breathe in Elsa's scent of soap and fresh snow and the faintest trace of lavender. Elsa's scent reminded her of the cold, but in the way that it was clean and raw and pure. Beneath her hands, Elsa felt solid, but still light—she was nimble on her feet in boots just as well as skates. Everything seemed to fall into place, like a puzzle where a piece that was lost was found in the most obvious place and she was surprised that she’d never noticed it.

 

Then the dance ended with applause, but Anna was hardly conscious of it. Her eyes were fixed to Elsa, her hands refusing to release her. Something had changed, shifted, and become something entirely new during that dance. Anna had no idea if it was her or Elsa, or maybe it was just a culmination from a long day and all the new things she’d experienced making her daft and stupid, but she _knew,_ just as well she knew the sun would rise in the east and rain fell from the skies, that she wasn’t ever letting Elsa go. She didn’t think she could, even if she wanted to.

 

God. If Kristoff heard her now, he would have laughed it off as romantic twaddle, and maybe it was.

 

But at that moment, it felt like truth.

 

* * *

 

 

When they parted, Elsa hardly paid attention to the crowd of people rising to their feet. Her hands were still linked with Anna's. Anna had the strangest expression on her face that Elsa didn’t know what to make of.

 

She decided the dance had gone well. _She’d done it_. No stiffness, rigidity, or overcontrol that the etiquette master kept pointing out to her. Anna had danced beautifully, just as he’d said. And she had _enjoyed_ it. She had enjoyed it immensely, losing herself in the present with Anna in her arms. Elsa sighed out a happily relieved breath. Her body felt remarkably light.

 

They finally walked off the floor and that was when Elsa realized she had overlooked a very crucial detail: they had to dance with other people. She'd been so focused on making the entire affair perfect, and then making sure she wouldn't bumble like an idiot and trod on her wife's foot, that she'd forgotten about the guests.

 

The queen nearly blanched at the sea of female eyes on her. _Oh, god_. And she wouldn't be dancing with men. It was implied by her clothes and the first dance that she was playing the masculine role tonight. And by god, if not every lady present wanted to experience the novelty of dancing with a cross-dressing queen, then she'd eat her own cravat. She felt like a cornered hare among a pack of wolves.

 

Elsa nearly spun on her heel and hightailed out of the ballroom. Only Anna's grip on her arm prevented her retreat.

 

"Everybody's staring at you," her wife commented with entirely too much amusement. "You danced so well."

 

"I forgot," Elsa managed.

 

"Forgot how to dance?"

 

"Forgot that I'd have to dance with... other people."

 

Anna had the gall to quirk an eyebrow at her. "Elsa, it's a party. You keep forgetting what happens at parties."

 

"Not if I leave."

 

For a moment, Anna looked alarmingly wistful. Like she was considering the very same thing.

 

"We could—"

 

"No," Elsa said despairingly. "It'll look bad. We can't. It's our party."

 

"But you're the queen—"

 

"That makes it even less appropriate!”

 

“If you say so,” Anna said, her thoughts on the matter obvious. “I’ll have to dance, too.”

 

Elsa wanted to freeze solid any man who danced with Anna. “You danced well, too,” she said instead.

 

Anna was giving her that same strange, inscrutable look again. “Mmm.”

 

Elsa wondered what it meant. Not wanting to ruin the moment in case she said the wrong thing again, she spotted King Frederick and Queen Alice approaching from the edge of the dance floor.

 

“Oh, well done, darling!” Queen Alice exclaimed to Anna. “You two danced splendidly! It certainly brings back memories.”

 

King Frederick smiled indulgently. “Perhaps you’ll honor your father with a dance?”

 

Elsa turned Anna gratefully over to King Frederick and watched them leave. Queen Alice declined her own offer for the next dance, though. “Look at all those ravenous ladies. I think they might tear me apart if I claimed your arm.”

 

A chill went down her spine. “Aunt, I would really—”

 

“Oh, dear, look, the first sally comes now!” Vastly entertained, Queen Alice tapped her fan lightly against Elsa’s arm. “My word, Elsa, it looks like propriety’s gone straight out the window tonight. I don’t think these ladies are going to wait for you to ask them for a dance.”

 

Elsa paled and reluctantly turned. The “first sally” was a striking brunette in a stunning red dress. Her chestnut hair was piled atop her head, tendrils draping over her bare shoulders. The dress hugged her lush curves and was so stunningly low-cut that it bordered on indecent. Elsa searched through her memory, now unwillingly loaded with fashion knowledge, and recognized it as a French style. Possibly with alterations with that cut. Good grief.

 

And the lady did walk with a certain intent, like she was on a mission. With a sinking heart, Elsa realized _she_ was probably the target.

 

Kai appeared at their side to make introductions. The lady stopped short to curtsy and Elsa found herself subjected to an eyeful of bare bosom. She could feel her mother-in-law attempting to hold in her mirth next to her and Elsa wished she was anywhere but there. Maybe she should have taken up Anna’s advice, manners be damned.

 

“Introducing the Comtesse of Artois, Lady Charlotte,” Kai announced. A French countess, then. That would explain the dress choice.

 

“Good evening, your majesties,” Lady Charlotte greeted.

 

Queen Alice gave a nod of acknowledgement. Elsa, though she didn’t need to given her status as monarch, bowed. “Good evening.”

 

“Congratulations on your marriage, your majesty,” Lady Charlotte said. Her voice was husky, the kind that slid down one’s spine like trailing fingertips. “The ceremony and dinner has been exceptional, as expected of Arendelle.”

 

“Thank you, my lady.”

 

Thick lashes lowered and demure green eyes gazed up from just below them. “Forgive my forwardness, your majesty, but I was wondering if I may claim the next dance with you.”

 

Good god, she was direct. Elsa fixed a polite smile on her face and turned to Queen Alice. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve claimed that dance with my mother-in-law—”

 

“Oh, heavens no!” Queen Alice laughed. “I thought you heard me, dear, but I’m sitting this one out.”

 

Elsa was thunderstruck. Queen Alice had just _abandoned_ her. Granted, she had turned down her original offer, but couldn’t she see that this was an emergency? Elsa would carry her to the dance floor if she had to. But it wasn’t a matter of health either; the other queen was spry as a colt.

 

Gimlet eyes lit in victory. “Then I must claim this one with you, Queen Elsa.”

 

Elsa wanted to protest, to dig in her heels, and maybe glare at her mother-in-law while she was at it since the older woman had just thrown her to a bonafide shark. Excuses formed, but none of them, absolutely none of them, were of any use. With an inward sigh, Elsa offered her hand.

 

“It would be my pleasure, Lady Charlotte.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really pleased and surprised with the responses and reactions I've been getting for this story! So, thanks everybody for leaving the kind comments about it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> As for this chapter, I had a great deal of difficulty with it and I'm not sure I'm very pleased with how it turned out, so I'd love to hear back from any readers who also found issues with it. It may be likely that I will return to this one and tweak it a bit more, but I'll put up a message if I decided to do this. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Elsa led the countess to the dance floor. Lady Charlotte laid her hands lightly on Elsa, her red painted lips smirking slightly.

　

"You don’t look entirely pleased, your majesty," Lady Charlotte remarked as the music started.

　

"I beg your pardon," Elsa said politely. She attempted to arrange her features into more neutral lines. She thought she already looked appropriately social. "It’s been a long day."

　

"You did look more energized with your bride," the countess continued. "She’s lovely. The princess consort, that is."

　

Elsa’s gaze sharpened on the other woman’s face. Elsa supposed she could be described as comely—chestnut hair, golden skin, large green eyes, a pert nose and full lips. She certainly wasn’t unattractive, but Elsa had never really looked at other ladies, or men, for that matter. The interest had never been there and Lady Charlotte certainly wasn’t going to initiate it for her—Anna had rather settled that for Elsa. It occurred to her that Anna had probably unknowingly ruined her for anyone else. It was just as well; she’d long known that Anna was the constant that would always guide her.

　

"Thank you," she said evenly. The countess wanted something. It was in the way she was watching her—far more intently than a dance partner would.

　

"You’re quite the talk of the evening as well," Lady Charlotte said. "The whole men’s dress. I don’t think I’ve seen so many women sighing over the clothes on another woman. They’re usually… ripping apart the attire of whoever outshines them."

　

Elsa didn’t answer immediately, weighing her response. This was precisely why she avoided social functions; comments like what just came out of the countess’s mouth, constructed to probably get a rise out of her.

 

She decided on raw honesty: "Lady Charlotte, I don’t particularly care what other women think."

 

"No, of course not," the countess said amiably. "You only care what your _wife_ thinks."

　

Startled, Elsa stared at her. The other woman’s height was merciful enough that Elsa didn’t have to stare down her cleavage—Lady Charlotte was only slightly taller than Anna, but Elsa still topped her.

　

"Don’t worry, your majesty, I have no interest in you.” The countess smiled faintly. “I just wanted your attention."

　

So she _was_ on a mission. And apparently dressed for the part, too. It was mildly insulting that someone thought such a show would get her attention, but she supposed since she was marrying another woman that it made some sense. It still did not lessen the affront in any way—she disliked being tricked or lured.

 

"Well, you have a captive audience," Elsa responded acidly. "The dance will be over shortly. You’d best make your case quickly or I shall leave you here on the floor."

　

The countess laughed throatily, drawing a few looks from other dancers. "You would not, Queen Elsa. You are too well-bred to be rude for the sake of making a point."

　

Elsa was rapidly reconsidering that last part.

　

The countess seemed to see it and smirked again. "I’m here on business, actually. As a sort of intermediary. You may be familiar with the Collier Company."

　

The name actually was familiar. Where had she heard that name? No, she hadn’t heard it. She’d read it.

 

"British, railroad industry," Elsa recited. "Arendelle holds a controlling share." It was a company her father had invested in. She was still familiarizing herself with all the companies Arendelle was involved with.

 

The countess beamed. "Excellent. That saves me quite a bit of time. I thought I might need to remind you."

 

"Most representatives of companies are men," Elsa commented absently, still searching for any recollections of the company she had filed away.

 

"You've turned away enough to know, I'm sure," was her smooth rejoinder.

　

That caught her attention and made her tighten her jaw. It was true enough. Her father had handled the business investments up until his death and Elsa had not even looked at the accounting books until nearly a year of mourning. She'd largely ignored most of the letters that were sent to Arendelle asking for business decisions, passing them off to an appointed council of financial advisors. She'd planned on returning to that part of her duties, but then the betrothal had eaten up all her time and commitment such that she'd continued to put it off. She had neglected her duties in that regard except for the most pressing issues.

　

 _"Ah, it does sting, I'm sure. Shall we speak like this to keep this discussion discreet?"_ The countess said in French.

　

Startled, Elsa answered back, _"You wouldn't be the only one who can speak French here."_

　

_"You'd be surprised. We can switch to another language if you prefer. I understand that you can speak several languages of the continent."_

　

The queen regarded the countess with an unreadable expression for several moments.

　

 _"If you have business dealings, then you can send notice to my office to schedule a meeting for another day,"_ she said tightly. _I will not be accosted at my own wedding party_ , was implied.

　

_"What better time than the present? As you said, I have you as a captive audience for a few more minutes and I’d rather we use that time efficiently as opposed to spouting pleasantries."_

She was blunt. Elsa couldn’t help but like it. It was such a change from the way most people spoke to her; a mix of awed adulation and pedantic observation of social conventions. She was an unknown and new to the throne as well as to Arendelle’s business relations. People were forever afraid of offending her, especially now that she controlled Arendelle’s purse strings.

 

Still, the dance floor was not the place where she wanted to conduct business, informally or otherwise.

 

The wardrobe choice was also regrettable. It was actually having the opposite (and presumably intended) effect—her eyes were resolutely trained on Lady Charlotte’s face than looking anywhere below her chin. It was also consistently reminding her that the countess thought she was easily distracted by a bit of skin and was patently unprofessional.

　

The countess took her silence as permission to continue. _"My employer—"_

　

_"Who is your employer?"_

 

_“A competitor. I’d prefer to not give names just yet—”_

_“So a mysterious competitor has sent a pretty face to my wedding party to speak of business relations. Hardly an appropriate venue. How charming.”_   Her voice dripped with barely concealed sarcasm.

 

The countess smiled disarmingly. _"I am flattered that you think I have a pretty face."_

　

 _"I shall leave you on the dance floor,"_ Elsa warned again, the flirtatious tone irritating her. She knew when she was being toyed with and her pride could only tolerate so many slights.

　

 _"Cold,"_ the countess laughed. More stares from other dancers. _"But I see the dance winding down. Perhaps we can continue to speak after refreshments?"_ The countess batted her lashes expectantly, enjoying the way Elsa glared at her. _"I can be charming as you said."_

　

 _"Set up a meeting and we can talk further."_ Her timing was impeccable: the dance ended and she walked off without the countess, leaving dancers to gape at the abject rudeness.

 

* * *

 

　

"How does it feel to be a married woman now?"

　

Anna smiled distantly up at her father, thoughts full of Elsa, and not registering the question at all.

 

Beautiful, graceful Elsa, who danced well and smelled so nice that Anna wanted to bury her nose in Elsa’s slender throat, and who knew how to relax her clumsy tendencies and what kinds of chocolates she liked.

　

There was a ball of excitement that had settled in her belly since their dance and she couldn't help but think of Elsa constantly. They'd been apart for a scant few minutes and she was already eager to return to her, to look at that lovely face, run her fingers through Elsa's hair—good god, she hadn't even touched Elsa's hair! And Elsa had had her hands in Anna’s hair and that seemed distinctly unfair, a gross oversight that would need to be remedied, and soon.

 

And then there was Elsa's mouth that Anna fervently wanted to kiss. Elsa was a very good kisser, Anna had concluded. Her only point of reference was Hans and he seemed like a very, very distant second, to the point of belonging on another planet. Yes, she wanted to kiss Elsa more.

　

"I'm going to take that as a positive answer," King Frederick said after a very long and pointed silence. His daughter was daydreaming; he recognized that expression. And given the pretty flush that had risen up her cheeks and the distracted eyes which, he was sure, was not from his comment, she was thinking of things that no father wanted to be privy to. Though he supposed he ought to be happy that Anna and Elsa were... getting along. It was good that she and Elsa were having such feelings, which he was not going to contemplate at all. He wanted nothing more than for both of them to be happy. They deserved it.

　

With his impressive height, King Frederick had a very good view of the dance floor. He idly glanced about to see where his daughter-in-law was and his eyes and jaw popped wide open in consternation when he saw who she was dancing with. The Comtesse of Artois. In the flesh. And most of it on display, for heaven’s sake! He could see the male heads turning to watch the queen and countess as they danced, their eyes lingering appreciatively on the countess's... bounty.

　

The countess was notorious. A man-eater, a snake, and whatever other animal that ate people and had no redeeming qualities. How on earth had she gotten an invitation? He immediately dismissed that question—of course she had connections, though nobody wanted to publicly acknowledge their association. She was toxic, that was what. Practically suicidal to be seen with her outside of social functions like these. And Elsa was dancing with her! Did she not know who the countess was? Actually, probably not; she hadn't been very social before. Good god, he could only imagine the damage if Anna saw her—

　

He seized his daughter and immediately whirled them about so her back was to Elsa and the countess. Nearby dancing couples had to scramble out of his way and dared not comment—he was a king, after all. Anna, however, made a startled noise.

　

"Papa! What are you doing?" She sounded peeved. She had been lost in reverie about Elsa before her father hied her half across the dance floor. Maybe he ought to spend some time with Master Flynn.

　

"The view's better from here," he said blandly.

　

Anna gave him a narrow-eyed look, but decided not to comment.

　

King Frederick tried to signal to his wife, but she simply twiddled her fingers fondly back at him while chatting with a group of ladies.

　

_Damn it, Alice, now isn’t the time to be obtuse!_

　

He could see people all around them starting to talk about who Elsa was dancing with. Strains of "Artois," "speaking in French," "the queen," as well as "that shameless dress" were floating into his ears and making him rigid with panic. He glanced down at his daughter—Anna hadn't noticed the flying gossip yet, her blue eyes in a state of blissful ignorance that he could only too clearly see being dashed by horror and heartbreak.

　

King Frederick wanted to clutch his little girl to his breast and carry her the rest of the way out of the ballroom, probably cursing Elsa's own ignorance for accepting a dance with the countess all the while. How did Elsa not _know_ about her? The countess’s reputation certainly preceded her, the vile woman.

　

While her father was fretting himself into a cold sweat, Anna was craning her head over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Elsa. She thought she could see Elsa's telltale platinum hair flash as she turned, then brilliant red, but her father was spinning her about rather quickly (she was tempted to stomp on his boot to get him to stop). As soon as the dance was over, Anna picked up her skirts to search out Elsa before King Frederick could even realize what she'd done.

　

* * *

 

 

 _Where was Elsa?_ Anna wove through the crush of people until she saw a flash of white blonde and the back of a retreating cobalt tailcoat.

　

"Elsa!"

　

Elsa didn't hear her and continued walking. Goodness, she did walk fast, her long legs eating up distance. Anna trotted after her and grabbed her arm, gasping for breath.

　

 _"Je vous ai déjà dit de demander un rendez-vous demain, comtesse,"_ Elsa said coldly, not turning.

　

Anna released her arm immediately. It was another voice she’d never heard Elsa use. And in French. Her own French was only passable, but she knew enough to know what Elsa had just told her to send a note tomorrow. And addressed her as countess.

 

 _"Je suis désolée,"_ Anna said, her voice small. She wasn't really sure why she'd just apologized when it was clear that Elsa had not meant her. The rebuke still stung, though.

　

Elsa whirled, her eyes wide. "Anna! I—God, I'm sorry, I thought you were—never mind." Flustered, she straightened, hands limp at her sides. At least she’d switched back to English.

 

"You left in such a hurry, your majesty." A lady sidled up behind Anna. Anna turned her head, her mouth open, then closed it when words failed her.

 

It was like a blow to the gut. There was really no word for it, but the closest approximate description was that the lady was magnificent. She had an earthly kind of beauty that whispered of temptation. She contrasted starkly to Elsa’s icy countenance, dark to her light, her face a collection of dramatic sweeps and curves with a knowing light in her green eyes. She moved with a sort of sensual languidness, like a lazy cat, her hips swaying and striding confidently.

 

It was enough to make any woman feel dowdy and Anna was no exception. The lady's red lips lifted at the corners as her eyes raked over Elsa with apparent interest.

 

The lady glanced at Anna and performed a graceful curtsy that was polite but still seemed somewhat mocking. Anna had to avert her eyes just slightly because—well, that dress; low-cut didn’t even _begin_ to describe it. Anna would not have been able to wear that same dress with the same kind of self-assuredness as the lady did.

 

"Anna, this is the Comtesse of Artois, Lady Charlotte." The introduction sounded like it was being dragged out of Elsa, the words a reluctant tumble.

 

Anna's jaw went slightly slack. _A French countess_. _Who... was eating Elsa alive with her eyes even right then._ She glanced quickly at Elsa for her reaction, but Elsa was like a glacier—unfathomable and immovable.

 

"Good evening," Anna said for lack of anything else to say. She felt like a pigeon next to this exotic animal. She’d seen other ladies like Lady Charlotte, women with voluptuous and lush figures and could wear such revealing dresses with aplomb, but she couldn’t think of a single one who seemed to embody pure sin as she did. And Lady Charlotte oozed with it, her presence simply drawing attention to her the same way Elsa’s demanded deference, though hers was with a distinctly carnal air.

 

"You as well, your highness," Lady Charlotte said. She regarded Anna for a moment and it made her feel almost _naked_ beneath those eyes. Like the countess knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and every secret Anna had was no longer hers. Anna couldn’t look away, feeling like a fly trapped in a web of silk.

 

Then she finally released Anna from her gaze and returned to devouring Elsa. Anna was frozen, her skin cold, her limbs useless. It felt like she was watching herself rather than actively participating in the... exchange.

 

"I shall call upon you, _your majesty_ ," Lady Charlotte purred. "For the... _business_ we spoke of." She infused the word with such suggestion that Elsa's brows lifted. The countess produced a calling card, strode to the queen, and trailed the tip of the card down her coat with that same languid sensuality, achingly slowly, as though it was a finger and not paper. The sound it made against the satin was almost thunderous.

 

Then she slid it into a pocket and eased it into place with a fingertip.

 

Both Elsa and Anna were rigid with shock. Anna could not believe her eyes. It was so... so... _improper_. She might as well have just propositioned Elsa right there in the middle of the ballroom.

 

Lady Charlotte then gave both of them a brilliant smile and swept away. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before the staff of Moses before her, eyes trailing after her retreating form.

 

The explosion of whispered gossip began before the countess had even made it out the ballroom.

 

* * *

 

 

"Who... who was that?"

 

Elsa blinked at the tentative question, the calling card sitting in her pocket like lead. She wanted to throw it into a fire. Or tear it apart and grind the pieces under her boot heel. There were eyes on them, eyes that had seen what just happened. Her skin crawled.

 

"I danced with her," Elsa said, slowly. She knew Anna wasn’t asking for the countess’s name. "She—this is a bad place to talk about this. Come with me." She took Anna's hand and led them to a nearby balcony where there were a few people loitering. She glared at them, her mood suffering too much to bother with manners now. They scattered.

 

Anna was silent next to her.

 

Alone and out of sight, Elsa leaned against the stone rail to face Anna, the lights from the city celebration behind her, and crossed her arms. The evening air was cool.

 

"I danced with her," she repeated. "She approached me first. She wanted something. A business negotiation."

 

"Business?" Anna stared at Elsa uncomprehendingly. "While... dancing?"

 

"So she said. She also said she was hired by a company interested in another that my father invested in. A British one. I don't... I don't really know what she wanted. I haven't looked at the state of most of Arendelle's business contracts. I told her to set up an appointment another day instead of interrupting the party."

 

"Oh. Is that why you were speaking French?"

 

Elsa scowled. “She started to. Allegedly to preserve my pride and avoid people overhearing. Ridiculous woman.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Elsa studied Anna. Her normally open face was unreadable in the dim lighting, her stance stiff. It was making her intensely uncomfortable, that perhaps Anna was hiding something from her. While Elsa just felt irritated that she'd been trapped with an overly flirtatious woman who had pointed out her failings, and then behaved in a _cavalierly inappropriate manner_ toward her before witnesses, she couldn’t decipher Anna’s feelings.

 

"Are you... are you displeased?" Elsa asked softly. "I promise you that I did not invite her... advances." An idea flickered briefly—did Anna feel jealous, perhaps? While that would have... not been entirely unwelcome for Elsa, because that would mean Anna _did_ feel not only just friendship towards her, at the same time—Elsa did not want Anna to suffer that. Elsa was already rather intimately familiar with that particular emotion.

 

"No, I'm just—no. I guess I'm just surprised that she acted like that. And for a business thing! That's... strange. I didn't know ladies were involved in, you know, business." Anna blinked a few times. "Well, of course, _you're_ involved in that, so I didn't mean, ha, what am I saying—"

 

Elsa went to Anna. She gently circled her hands about Anna's upper arms and drew her close until Anna's face was tucked into her shoulder. "You're upset," Elsa murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't handle that well."

 

Anna shook her head against Elsa's coat. Her arms found their way around Elsa's back, fingers brushing her tied hair. "I didn't—ugh, I don't know how to say it." Her voice was muffled against Elsa's shoulder. "I didn't like... the way she looked at you."

 

Elsa's heart thrummed pleasantly at the admission. So Anna _was_ jealous. Even if just a little, Elsa did not intend on letting her continue feeling that way.

 

"She was a bit rude, wasn't she?" Elsa smiled, pressing her cheek to Anna's hair. God, she still smelled of summer—that lovely mix of sun and grass and faint strawberries. It never failed to soothe her. Elsa allowed her eyes to close, her thumbs rubbing small circles against Anna’s skin. "I'll tell you, I couldn't get away from her fast enough during the dance. Your mother is partially to blame for that,” she added, attempting to inject some levity into the tense air. And damned if she wasn’t going to abandon her mother-in-law in turn after leaving her with Lady Charlotte.

 

Anna made a noise. "What'd she do?"

 

"Turned on me. Refused to dance and let the countess cart me off."

 

"I'll kill her for you," Anna mumbled into her shoulder.

 

Elsa laughed softly. "She is related to me now, too."

 

Anna made another noise, but soon fell silent. Her fingers were knitted into the back of Elsa's coat and the weight felt nice. Like an anchor.

 

"Anna?"

 

Anna didn't answer, but moved her head slightly in acknowledgment.

 

"If you're worried that I might... look elsewhere, I would never. I wasn't lying when I said I found you very beautiful." The very thought of it was both reprehensible and impossible. And she refused to think of how she was allowing Anna to do the very opposite—Anna wasn’t the one in love with her.

 

“I know,” Anna whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

The calling card bit was, by far, not the worst thing the Comtesse of Artois had ever done, but she did feel rather poorly about it. She hadn’t really planned on it, but she simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity when it presented itself. Lady Charlotte signaled a waiting footman outside for her carriage and reflected on the evening’s events.

 

Queen Elsa was surprisingly easily needled, likely from youth and inexperience. She filed that away for future use.

 

And the princess consort was certainly as pretty and appealing as she'd been told, like a delicate rose. No wonder the queen was taken with her: that kind of innocence simply called to people. In men it probably would have inspired some protective sentiment that could be exploited to satisfying effect. She wondered if the queen would react in similar fashion.

 

Red lips curved. Very likely, she thought. But it was best to be careful around especially powerful figures. The queen was young and potentially unpredictable. Her initial impression was that Queen Elsa was neither feckless nor particularly hot-tempered, so she’d probably not come after her head after what happened tonight.

 

And another important detail: Queen Elsa was in love with Princess Anna. It was so terribly obvious, even though the queen masked her emotions well. The queen might as well have planted a placard on her head and announced it to the world. And the princess was not far behind; if she wasn’t feeling similar feelings, she was well on her way. If nobody saw it—truth be told, the countess did excel at reading these kinds of things, so perhaps it was not as glaringly obvious as she thought, but in her opinion, most of nobility were blind fools and thus why they were just so easily played.

 

Ah, but still, young love. The queen and princess had made it altogether too easy for her, which was the trouble with young love—not very much trust built yet. But she imagined that they'd weather it. She hadn't done _that_ much; she'd even held back a bit. And the gossip would do the bulk of the damage.

 

Lady Charlotte just needed the queen to be properly distracted for the business negotiations.

 

And nothing distracted more than when your new spouse suspected wandering interest.

 

* * *

 

 

Alone on the balcony with Elsa, Anna couldn’t control the thoughts that were running rampant through her mind.

 

Watching Elsa standing with her back to the night, her blonde hair shining in the soft light, looking so beautiful and, god, she was just too much. Elsa was too beautiful and perfect. She wasn’t a person; she was a work of art, even when she looked harassed.

 

Anna had wanted to press herself to Elsa’s chest, had wanted to so badly to touch her and affirm that Elsa was _hers_ , Elsa had married _her,_ Elsa belonged to _her_. Princess Anna of Corona. Second born. Younger sister to the crown heir. Pretty enough face. Skilled at horseback riding, which was expected because that was Corona’s specialty—horses. Competent with the pianoforte and most ballroom dances. Abysmal artistic skills. The beginning and end of all that was noteworthy of Princess Anna.

 

But she couldn’t. She’d stood there, immobile, listening to Elsa explain why that countess was interested in her. About _business_. So the countess was not only beautiful like Elsa, she was educated. She was smart. She knew about business. She knew about the same things Elsa did. The countess was _useful_. Useful in the way Anna wasn’t and couldn’t be.

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about the countess speaking to Elsa in French.

 

Dazed, she’d only been capable of staring at Elsa’s face and wonder what she looked like while dancing with Lady Charlotte. The countess had contrasted so well next to Elsa with their opposite coloring that they could have been from a matched set. Like heaven and hell, or some other metaphor she couldn’t come up with at the moment because Anna wasn’t skilled in literature; she’d spent far too many lessons daydreaming of horses than classics. And the countess would be effortlessly graceful. Women like her simply were. Like Elsa was.

 

Elsa wouldn't need to recount childhood memories to help her walk down a flight of stairs. Elsa wouldn't need to catch her at her own wedding because she wouldn't be clumsy.

 

And if Elsa found Anna attractive, god only knew how she found the countess.

 

Anna had never felt so inadequate and foolish in her life. She’d rubbed her thumb against her wedding band, an act that should have been reassuring, but it instead felt like a heavy reminder to something that she should have thought of earlier: Had Elsa _wanted_ to marry her? Did she even _deserve_ someone like Elsa?

 

Then she’d found herself in Elsa’s arms because Elsa had seen something in her, perfect creature that she was, and Anna had held on fiercely, her throat thick with the things she should have asked, and couldn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Corona, five years prior

 

_Anna was astride Dusk and guiding the stallion around in easy circles in the corral. He was improving, she thought with approval. His gait was easy and relaxed, and he didn’t fight the bit anymore, but he was still spirited and playful._

_“A few more minutes and I’ll take you for a good long run, how’s that sound?” Anna murmured to him, watching his ears prick forward in interest. “I’m sure you’d love that.”_

_She let him canter, guiding him with her knees into tighter and tighter circles until they were nearly to the center of the corral. Then she clicked with her tongue, pressed down hard on the saddle and gave the reins a tug._

_The gray stallion stopped short and lifted his forelegs high, pawing at the air with a theatric whinny. He held the pose for longer than he had in the past, then he dropped to all fours and stubbornly waited for his prize, not budging in the least. Anna laughed and rubbed his neck, fishing out sugar cubes that disappeared under a long tongue._

_“You’re a good boy, even if you’re a glutton,” she said fondly._

_“That was lovely,” a familiar voice called._

_Anna swiveled her head to the source and grinned widely in surprise. “Elsa!”_

_She kicked Dusk into a gallop to the fence where Elsa stood in a conservative blue dress and jacket, her blonde hair tied in a neat bun. Anna clambered over the fence and hugged Elsa, then sprang back._

_“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m covered in dirt and sweat and I probably just ruined that outfit—”_

_Elsa laughed and hugged her again. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure I have more of these. You’re not that bad.”_

_Anna grinned again and gave her breeches a few cursory pats to dislodge at least some of the dust. “Did you just get here?”_

_“I was watching you for a bit,” Elsa admitted. “We arrived just an hour ago and I knew you’d be here. You ride so well; I think you’ve gotten even better since I saw last. I’m a little envious.”_

_She laughed, her chest swelling with pride. “It runs in the family.”_

_“I think you ride better than Kristoff. Or anybody else.” She turned to Dusk before Anna could answer. “Is this the horse you mentioned in your letter? Dusk, the gray Andalusian, was it?”_

_“Oh, yeah, he’s the one.” Anna rubbed her palm against his cheek vigorously, knowing he liked that. He leaned his head toward her, enjoying the attention._

_“Well. It’s hard to imagine this is the same one you talked about. He didn’t allow anyone near him before, right?”_

_Anna smiled. “I’ve been working with him for a while. He’s just a big baby now and I’m probably rotting his teeth out with all the sugar cubes I need to bribe him with.”_

_“May I?”_

_Anna nodded. Elsa extended a hand. Dusk blew into it, then turned away with a snort._

_“Oh, don’t worry, he does that to everybody,” Anna said, unsurprised. “He’ll warm up to you in a few days.”_

_Elsa gave her a rueful smile. “It’s all right.” Suddenly, she looked uncomfortable, her gloved hands wringing themselves. “I’m… I wanted to ask you about… well. First, ah, how are you?”_

_“I’m fine, as you can probably see,” she replied, then glanced down at her attire. “A bit dirty, too. I’m really sorry about that dress.”_

_“No, it’s really fine. You… you’ve grown a bit.”_

_“Oh, really?” Anna was thrilled. “Huh, I guess you don’t look as tall now. How many inches do you think I’ve got before I can catch up to you? Not that I’ll ever get to Kristoff’s height, but at least you won’t have to hurt your neck looking down so much.”_

_Elsa chuckled. “You’ve grown at least an inch, perhaps two. You use to be about… here,” she said, holding her hand level with her chin. “You’re almost to my nose now.”_

_Anna pouted. “I’ll catch up soon. You’re almost done growing and Mother said I’ll keep growing a bit more.”_

_“Yes, I imagine so.” Elsa’s eyes fell away and she looked nervous again. “Speaking of well, the future… How to put this…”_

_Anna’s brows rose. Elsa was rarely at a loss for words. Elsa was only sixteen years old, almost seventeen, but her speech never fumbled and she always spoke with an eloquence expected of her station. It was a little intimidating how well Elsa carried herself already, but it never bothered Anna._

_“The betrothal?” Anna prompted._

_Elsa flushed nearly to her hairline. “I—yes. Yes. You already know?”_

_“Papa told me.” Anna turned her head to watch Dusk out of the corner of her eye when he wandered away. “It was a little surprising since I always thought I’d get, I don’t know, someone I’d probably never met before.”_

_Elsa hesitated, her expression unsure. “I see. Are you—are you all right with it? Because I can speak to my father and we don’t need to do this, I mean, it wasn’t at all what I was expecting either, but I don’t—I don’t want this to be_ forced _—”_

_“It’s not like I’m against it, Elsa,” Anna said with a smile. Elsa looked so adorable at that moment, stuttering and uncertain, and she was supposed to be the older, mature one. Anna reveled in the difference a bit. “I just thought I’d be marrying a prince, is all. You know, a boy. For children,” she added._

_Elsa looked like she was going to fall over from all the blood rushing to her head, her face was so red.  “Children. I—yes, children. Offspring. Heirs.” She blinked rapidly. Anna decided she ought contain her laughter to preserve Elsa’s dignity. How strange that Elsa hadn’t thought of heirs._

_“Well, yeah, to pass down the title and all,” Anna said amiably. “Kind of like horses do for foals, except you need a boy and a girl, or I guess that’s the stud and mare in horse terms. Oh, hey, I didn’t get a chance to tell you in the last letter that Belamie foaled a colt a few weeks ago! He’s so pretty, do you want to see him? I think he’s going to be a good racer, just like his sire. They’re probably grazing together”_

_Elsa stared at her, again at a loss for words. “I—well, yes, that would be lovely, but Anna… we’re betrothed. Betrothed,” she repeated, for emphasis._

_Anna nodded slowly, confused as to why Elsa was so concerned about it. “Right, we are. We’re going to get married when I turn eighteen, which is when I come of age.”_

_“Anna, are you actually amenable to this? You-you don’t have any objections?”_

_Anna tilted her head. “Why would I? It’s better than marrying a stranger. And you’re my best friend, Elsa. You know about all sorts of things about me that I’d never tell anyone else. And I’ve already been to Arendelle and—oh, we’d be living in Arendelle Castle, right? Since you’d be queen?”_

_Elsa’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Anna couldn’t quite smother her smile because she’d never seen Elsa look so surprised and caught off-guard. Well, marriage was a serious matter, but it seemed to mean a bit more for Elsa than it did Anna. “Yes,” she finally said. “We—we would. Unless you prefer… elsewhere. Arendelle does have other… castles. And villas. We would move back once I’m crowned, but otherwise… elsewhere is fine as well.”_

_“No, I like the castle. We can finally explore the rest of it without getting scolded if we don’t make it back for dinner,” Anna said. “Too bad about the weather, though,” she continued absentmindedly, eyes back on Dusk. “Arendelle gets so cold sometimes and I don’t think the horses would always like it.”_

_“Oh, our stables. They’re not really—comparable. To Corona’s. We—we could change that. We can certainly afford to buy more, if you prefer.” Elsa looked away. “I don’t think we can do anything about the weather, though.”_

_Anna laughed and gave Elsa’s arm a gentle swat. “I’m not asking you to, silly, unless you’ve got a better control on the—” She wiggled her fingers at Elsa._

_Elsa frowned, but the corner of her lips twitched. “It’s improving, a little,” she allowed. “I’ve been practicing and—it’s better.”_

_“You’ll have to show me later,” Anna said. “I’ve always liked watching you do the magic.”_

_Elsa huffed slightly. “It’s not for play, Anna,” she chided. “Hopefully I’ll have it under better control when—when we’re married.” She still turned red at the last word, but not as bright as before._

_“I think you will,” Anna said. “You’ve always worked so hard at it. It’s bound to pay off.”_

_Elsa didn’t look as confident as Anna sounded, but nodded. “I hope so. But that aside… Anna, do you actually want to—to marry? To marry me?”_

_“Well, we’re both princesses,” Anna started. “And it’s, you know, our duty, right? I mean, you’re supposed to be queen of Arendelle one day, just like Kristoff is going to be king of Corona, and both of you definitely have to marry because it’s, uh, what is it, just not done for a king or queen to be unmarried. And I have to marry, too, but I don’t want to marry some old lord like Lady Marjorie had to, god, I heard he’s old enough to be her_ father— _”_

_“Didn’t you—didn’t you say you wanted to marry a prince?” Elsa interrupted._

_Anna shrugged. “It’d be nice if there someone out there who was handsome and funny and, you know, who Papa would actually like, but Mother says he has impossibly high standards even for a king, so…” She grinned at Elsa. “You already know all the bad parts about me and my best friend and I know you’d treat me well. What about me? Do you want to marry me?”_

_Elsa’s eyes widened and she looked so startled again. “I—I would be honored,” she stuttered, her face blushing again. “But I only—I only want to if you want to.”_

_“I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to marry you,” Anna said before she had to climb back into the corral. Dusk was looking like he was contemplating jumping the fence and she had to grab his reins to make him behave._

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the reviews/comments so far, I love any kind of feedback; as always, constructive criticism is welcome. As for update frequency (which some readers have asked for), I currently am juggling college and a full-time job, so writing 5k~ words a week is probably the best I can do.


	6. Chapter 6

“My goodness, dear, I would have had no idea you were capable of such histrionics if I hadn’t last witnessed it the day Anna came to the world,” was what greeted Elsa and Anna once they found Anna’s parents.

 

Her father was working himself up into a near frenzy about something while her mother was standing by placidly and, with great amusement, making pointed remarks that her father was ignoring.

 

In other words, Anna thought, everything was normal.

 

“Oh, look, they’ve returned,” her mother said, and whacked her father’s arm solidly with her fan to interrupt another mumbled ramble. “Do calm yourself. You see? Both in one piece. I’ve no idea why you keep going on about crocodiles and sharks. Such an imagination, one does wonder how I’ve put up with it for so long.”

 

“Mother,” Anna said, tiredly. She had no doubts who they'd been talking about.

 

“Anna, what did that woman say to you?” Her father demanded. He probably would have seized her by the shoulders and shaken her if she wasn’t tucked against Elsa’s side, he looked so furious. “Whatever it was, do _not_ listen to a word of it! That woman is a poisonous spider—”

 

“Uncle,” Elsa admonished. “Your voice.”

 

Her father glanced at her, then drew himself up to his full height, every inch screaming displeased papa. “ _You. You danced with her.”_ At least he wasn’t yelling, Anna thought. She didn’t think she could handle her own tattered emotions as well as her father in a mood tonight.

Elsa’s eyebrows drew up. Anna wasn’t sure if it was because her father looked intimidating or because the queen had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. Either way, Elsa maintained her composure before the Coronan equivalent of an enraged bull. “Yes,” she said neutrally. “I did. It appears she has a reputation that I’m not aware of.”

 

“How can you not know her?” Her father barked incredulously.

 

“Well, I didn’t,” her mother commented. “I’ve never heard of this woman for all her alleged infamy. And I am certainly far more social than either Elsa or Anna.”

 

“Neither have I,” Anna added. “Heard of her before tonight, that is.”

 

King Frederick looked between all the females surrounding him and turned red in the face. “How—everybody _knows_ —”

 

“Evidently not,” Queen Alice said. “And the remarkable thing I see is that the only one who does appear to know this woman is a _man_.” She pinned her husband with an unusually intense look. “Sharing stories over port and cigars again?”

 

 Her father turned nearly puce.

 

“Do tell, dear, before the secrets just burst out of you,” Queen Alice said dryly. “Have you actually met her?”

 

Her father looked like he wanted to stamp his foot, he was so agitated. Finally, he gritted out, “I’ve seen her once. At a diplomatic meeting. She was… she was… _hired_.”

 

“To do what, provide secretarial services?” Her mother said. Anna nearly snorted out a laugh at the conjured image. It was just so incongruous even though nothing about this was very funny.

 

“As a _courtesan_ ,” King Frederick forced out, giving Anna an apologetic look. “Damn it. This is no place to be speaking of this. I will not go into details, but that woman is a _mercenary_. She went after a man, a rich German, and before the week was out, word was that his wife had turned him out of his own house. And, by the end of the month, his company had sunk from scandal and some tradesman secret of his sold out on the street as common as a newspaper! She ruined him, make no mistake about it. Everybody knew it was her, that _comtesse_ , and she vanished without a trace afterward.”

 

“I see,” was all Elsa had to say about it. She looked thoughtful.

 

“What? What is it?” Her father spat.

 

Elsa gave him a measured look. “Nothing in particular,” she said. “Only that my father did warn me about… untoward attention. Many years ago, though. I didn’t take him seriously. He was rather vague about it.”

 

“Ah,” Queen Alice said. “Alexander would have known about that sort of thing.”

 

“What?” Anna asked, because she had no idea what anyone was talking about anymore. She was exhausted.

 

“Spies and thieves and that sort,” Elsa said. Her lids lowered contemplatively. “I thought she was unusual for a business representative. Someone’s hired her and she was here to… sniff at my heels, to put it crudely.” Elsa grimaced in faint disgust. “And provoke me.”

 

“She provoked you?” Anna asked.

 

“Yes, deliberately, to gauge my reactions. She caught me off-guard; I hadn’t expected that sort of thing tonight. She had no intention of brokering any kind of deal.” Elsa sighed. “The calling card was probably part of it. And that dress. I don’t think I’ve ever had to stare at someone’s face for such a prolonged period of time just to avoid having to look _down_.”

 

Anna didn’t want to think about Elsa staring at the countess’s face, or any other part of her anatomy, and looked away.

 

“In any case,” Elsa continued. “I won’t be dancing with her again. Ever.”

 

“Won’t you have to meet with her?” The words were out of her mouth before Anna could stop them.

 

“After I’ve done some research on her,” Elsa said. “I was unprepared tonight. I won’t be again. And it’s only fair—she found details about me.”

 

Anna wanted to ask what kind of details, but kept her mouth shut this time.

 

"She's already left the party if the gossip's anything to go by. Certainly sounds like she was looking only for you," Queen Alice said.

 

Elsa looked relieved. "Thank god. I don't want to dance with anyone else—unless you want to, Anna?"

 

The younger woman shook her head. "No," she said, her voice thready. She cleared her throat. "I'd rather we just call it a night."

 

Her father sighed heavily, most of his temper forgotten. "I'm sorry that woman ruined your party. This was meant for you— _both_ of you," he said with a meaningful glance at Elsa.

 

Elsa looked over her shoulder at the guests, noting the quickly turning heads when they were caught staring. "Too early to end it," she said grimly. "We can give our apologies and just leave early, but the fact that we leave after I danced with the countess—" She grimaced again, clearly irritated at being forced to stay.

 

"Well, the gossip's already at full speed now." Queen Alice unfurled her fan and waved it gently before her face. "I would retire for the evening if I were you, darling," she said to her daughter gently. "It'll blow over soon enough." Anna swallowed. She knew why she ought to leave now—so she would not have to endure the inevitable whispers and speculative looks. It would be humiliating.

 

Elsa's hand covered hers and squeezed. "We'll retire for the evening," Elsa said firmly, as though she knew the train of Anna’s thoughts. "Kai will see to it that everybody leaves before it gets late."

 

Her parents decided to stay for a little while longer. Elsa informed Kai to "boot everybody out before midnight," which made Anna smile. The butler nodded understandingly—he'd probably seen or heard what happened.

 

As they made their way out, Anna asked, "What should we do now?"

 

Elsa looked at her with momentary confusion, then her expression cleared. "Ah, I was thinking—well, it is a bit too early for... sleeping," she said. "I was thinking, if you'd be amenable to maybe a chess game? Or I could read to you, like when we were younger," she added. "Of course, we don't have to—"

 

Anna squeezed Elsa's elbow. "Any of those would be fine," she said with a small smile. "To the library, then?" She remembered a handsome carved marble chess set was kept there.

 

The queen nodded. "Yes, the library. The main one, anyway." They walked silently down the corridor away from the ballroom, strains of music trailing them.

 

"I'm sorry about what happened with the countess," Elsa said abruptly.

 

Anna looked up at her. Elsa was looking straight ahead, a muscle in her jaw twitching. She was angry, Anna realized.

 

“It’s not your fault, Elsa.”

 

Elsa exhaled sharply. “It is. I should have kept a better eye on the guest list. I didn’t even know how many were invited, Anna, and—”

 

“And what, Elsa?” Anna interrupted, stopping to make Elsa face her. “Neither of us even _knew_ her. And even if you did, you couldn’t have known that she was going to—to—”

 

“ _Embarrass us_ ,” Elsa ground out, her blue eyes turning razor sharp. If Anna thought it was possible, her pupils seemed to glow against the candlelight from the sconces that lined the walls. Her jaw tensed, like she was trying to not shout. “She came after me because of _my work_ and, by extension, she disrespected you. _My wife_.”

 

Anna’s eyes went wide with surprise. Where was this fury coming from? Elsa had acted calm in front of her parents. She was too shocked to say anything, and just stood there stupidly, watching Elsa struggle to control her temper.

 

Elsa’s fists were clenched as she took deep breaths. “My failing,” she muttered. Anna wasn’t sure if Elsa was addressing her or talking to herself. “My responsibility. I will not allow it to happen again.”

 

That snapped her out of whatever had gotten ahold of her tongue. “Elsa, you can’t control gossip. Anything can happen at parties and—well, you know how it is. People talk. It’s just the way it is and—”

 

“Then you don’t allow the opportunity to exist in the first place,” Elsa snapped. “‘Pardon one offense, and you encourage the commission of many.’”

 

Anna’s brow knitted. “Your father used to say that, didn’t he?”

 

“Publilius. It doesn’t matter—”

 

“Oh, god, Elsa, that sounds draconian, I hope you don’t _actually_ —”

 

“When the shoe fits—”

 

“And _what_ are you going to do exactly, Elsa?” Anna demanded, her earlier diffidence forgotten. “Check the background of every guest of any social function we go to? Boot out anybody questionable? Because you did say your father even _warned_ you about people trying to get under your skirt!”

 

Elsa’s face made an expression that Anna could not describe. The closest approximation was a cross between a violent facial tic and a bowel movement. They glared at each other.

 

Then: “‘Under my skirt’?” Elsa said, with arctic majesty.

 

This time Anna could not prevent the undignified snort that welled up. She tried to hold it in, she really did.

 

“I’m not even _wearing_ a skirt,” Elsa continued in the same icily haughty tone and Anna dissolved into peals of helpless laughter.

 

When Anna recovered, Elsa’s eyebrow was twitching madly and she was very pointedly looking anywhere but at her.

 

"Are you quite finished?" Elsa asked stiffly. "By all means, continue enjoying yourself at my expense."

 

"I'm sorry," Anna gasped, her belly aching from mirth. "But—your face, oh my god—"

 

Elsa turned on her heel and started striding away, her back ramrod straight again. Anna was honestly surprised that Elsa wasn’t trailing frost and ice in her wake, though the atmosphere did feel distinctly chilly. 

 

"Elsa!" Anna dashed after her, still chortling. "Don't be like that. You know I wasn't laughing _at_ you."

 

"No?" Elsa's voice was soft, her strides long. She stared directly ahead, her mouth a flat line.

 

"Not at all!" Anna grabbed Elsa's arm. "All right, at least look at me if we're going to talk."

 

"I thought I could at least not have to look at someone laughing _with_ me," Elsa replied tartly. She stopped and looked down at Anna, her eyes still glaring a little. "Anna, that woman ruined our wedding and you're willing to just _forget_ it?"

 

Anna sighed, her shoulders slumping, though Elsa's anger was rather gratifying, like a balm on a wound. "What happened wasn't... ideal," she managed. "But it's not like it really matters, right? I mean, we'll have more balls and dances and I suppose, if you really wanted to, you can comb through guests lists, though I think that's just wasted effort. Unless you just want to stop going to social functions altogether."

 

Elsa looked at her for a long moment, her expression cool. "I would not be opposed to that," she finally said. "To either one of those, but more so for the latter."

 

"No parties at all?" Which was not surprising at all, but Anna had thought Elsa would have to go to some since she was the queen. "Can you—can you _do_ that?"

 

She was awarded with an amused look. "'I am the queen'," Elsa mocked gently. "'I can do whatever I like.' Though it sounds like it should be 'I _shall_ do whatever I like and damn the consequences. My wife has given me tacit permission to do so.'"

 

"Elsa!" Anna made to swat her arm, a laugh surprised out of her. Her cheeks warmed at the way Elsa addressed her as "my wife"—it was said with such affection, her low voice just a little rough over it, and not at all like before when she was angry. Anna wondered if Elsa would keep referring her that way and if Anna would survive the intonations. Probably not. "You can't blame that on me! I won't be the cause of some social faux pas because you took what I said out of context!"

 

The queen rubbed at her arm where Anna had hit her even though Anna hadn't put much force behind it. "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, her face neutral. "Apparently, my wife may resort to physical discipline..."

 

"Elsa!" Anna gasped. The "my wife" was sending pleasant shivers down her spine and melting her insides. If Elsa kept that up she'd probably end up a puddle on the floor. "You're teasing me!"

 

"Deservedly," Elsa agreed. A faint smile danced on her lips. "I seem to remember you laughing at—ah, forgive me, _with—_ me earlier."

 

Anna reddened. She really did deserve it for laughing at Elsa like that. But the look on her face really was priceless, so she wasn't terribly regretful. "Well. Would you really not go to any parties?" She asked, deliberately changing the topic.

 

She could see in the way Elsa's smile widened, just a little, that the queen knew what she was about.

 

"I've already been doing it," Elsa answered. "And after what happened tonight, well, let's say I'd be inclined to continue the practice. Some truly are unavoidable, but I wouldn't force you to attend with me if you didn't want to. And, of course..." Elsa took her hands in hers and squeezed them gently, the hard edge of her eyes gone and replaced with something that looked suspiciously like humor. "If you wanted to go to them, I would always want to go with you."

 

Anna pressed her lips together, at a loss for words. Elsa was getting really good at that—making her speechless. It was an achievement given her propensity to fill any silences with clumsy chatter. She had an overwhelming urge to kiss Elsa and those lapels were simply calling to her again. As her eyes dropped to them, perhaps to concede the battle, Elsa leaned in. Anna's eyes widened.

 

Was Elsa going to kiss her? Without Anna needing to demand it or wheedle it out of her?

 

Elsa's lips pressed a kiss to her forehead gently. Anna tried not to pout—the gesture was sweet and affectionate again, so disappointment seemed out of place.

 

"I think we've just had our first fight," Elsa murmured against her temple, her warm breath ghosting over Anna's skin. Her belly flipped.

 

"I think so, too," Anna managed to say. "On our wedding day, no less. Glad we got that out of the way."

 

Elsa let out a surprised chuckle, then pulled back. "Are you sure you're not tired? We can retire for the evening. It has been a long day."

 

She shook her head, not wanting to break the moment. "No, I'm fine. We can go to the library and you can trounce me at chess as payback."

 

Elsa released one of her hands and tucked the other under her elbow. "I haven't played in some time, actually. Not since—" She cut herself off.

 

Anna knew, though. _Not since Uncle Alexander died_. Elsa had always played with her father—he was the only one Elsa had not been able to beat—it helped, Elsa had said, with controlling the magic, sometimes. _What, losing all the time?_ Anna had once asked as a little girl and confused as to why Elsa would want to keep repeating the exercise when Uncle Alexander was so merciless at the game. Elsa had laughed and said it wasn't about the outcome, but the process—learning to think differently, to contemplate different strategies. Anna hadn't quite understood it then, but…

 

She leaned against Elsa in comfort. Anna thought it may have been because Elsa had simply enjoyed spending time with her father that didn't involve endless lessons and work.

 

* * *

 

 

The library was dark and drafty. Elsa stifled a sigh. She should have sent a servant to at least start a fire, which would take some time to warm the room anyway since it was cavernous—another dubious ancestral improvement. At least the chess set was close to the fireplace.

 

"I'll get the fire going," Elsa said as Anna sat on one of the large plush armchairs bracketing the chess board. Anna nodded and rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms absentmindedly, eyes searching for the drawer where the pieces were kept.

 

The queen lit a few candles and removed her coat. After a moment's hesitation, she settled it over Anna's shoulders. Anna looked up in surprise.

 

"The cold doesn't bother me, remember?" Elsa said by way of explanation. She cleared her throat. "I'll get that fire started now." As she turned, she missed Anna's smile and the way the younger woman pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders.

 

As she built up the fire, the radiant heat warmed her cheeks and Elsa tugged at her collar, silently cursing the constrictive thing. Feeling too hot already, she removed her vest and draped it over her free arm. She could hear Anna setting the pieces on the board behind her. It was a comfortable silence that they shared, and one that Elsa was loath to interrupt. She finally got to her feet after no amount of poking was going to get the fire any higher, and left her vest on the back of another armchair before settling down across from Anna.

 

"I see that I will be black," Elsa said with a smirk. "No coin toss? Drawing blind from the box?"

 

"Well, I'm going to need every advantage I can get if this is going to be even remotely fair, Elsa," Anna said, adopting her haughtiest look that only made Elsa smile. If there was one thing Anna was not suited for, it was aloofness. Her face was too expressive for it.

 

"By all means," Elsa conceded gracefully. "Your move then, my lady."

 

About ten moves along was when Anna began carping about handicaps, which was a bit longer than Elsa had anticipated the younger woman would hold out. "Is this a _serious_ match, Elsa? Because you're more experienced and I haven't played in _ages—"_

Elsa promptly held up a black marble bishop and a black marble rook and placed them on Anna's side. "There," she said.

 

She pouted, clearly having expected Elsa to fight her on it. Anna moved a knight.

 

Elsa knew she could take it with little to no consequence, but she simply looked at the gleaming piece with faint nostalgia. "I remember when you said your favorite piece was the knight because they looked like horses," she said suddenly.

 

Anna blinked, then grinned. "You’re right," she said. "I do still like them for that. And the way they move in that L-shape. It seemed… strange. That they could jump over pieces like that. Strange and special because no other piece could do that."

 

"Appealed to your sense of whimsy?" Elsa asked.

 

Anna laughed. "I think so. I was only a child, then. And I really liked horses." And Anna still did.

 

Elsa shook her head. "I tried not to take your knights when we played," she confessed. "You always looked so sad when I did."

 

She watched Anna’s brows rise, her lips parting in surprise. "Did you really?"

 

Elsa nodded. The admission probably should have embarrassed her, but it didn't. It was simply the truth.

 

"That’s… well. Sweet of you," Anna said, her cheeks blushing.

 

"Oh, don’t thank me. It was difficult," Elsa continued. "Trying to win while your knights wreaked havoc in the center field because you were so aggressive with them. It certainly taught me to… play differently," Elsa chuckled. It also meant Elsa had to be absolutely ruthless and win very quickly if she could not take Anna’s knights. She wondered if her father knew for he’d watched a few of their games. He couldn’t have expected Anna to prove any match to Elsa, not when a young Anna had no aptitude or interest in the game, but surely… He must have known, Elsa decided. Her father knew her style of play well, and could spot inconsistencies on the board as well as in the accounting books. She wondered if that was what had given her away—her feelings for Anna. She'd never had any intention of ever acting on those feelings and for her own father to force her…

 

She shook her head inwardly. The thought was just as whimsical as Anna’s fondness for knights. It was only a game, not a love letter.

 

But she did not take Anna’s vulnerable knight; old habits were hard to break, or perhaps Elsa just wasn’t willing to be free of this particular one. Instead, she moved her other bishop. The game continued for a few more moves until it was Anna’s turn. Anna frowned and looked about her remaining pieces. The white side was considerably more populated than black. "Elsa, are you letting me win?"

 

"Really, Anna," Elsa said archly. "You don’t need to rub it in. I admitted that I am a bit rusty and I _did_ sacrifice one of my bishops and rooks for you—"

 

"I have both my knights still," Anna declared, eyeing her suspiciously. "And I _know_ I’m useless at chess. And you just told me you used to handicap yourself with my knights and _still_ win."

 

Elsa hid her smile. She was, in fact, letting Anna win, but for entirely selfish reasons. She liked watching Anna ponder over each move, the furrow of her brow, the way she chewed on her lower lip as she tried to decide which piece to play. And seeing Anna under her coat—well. There was no way to describe it other than to try to ignore the swell of possessiveness and warmth. She wouldn’t be surprised if it would actually affect her chess game if she were to play seriously, though she had seen at least three different ways to victory since the game had started. But she preferred gazing at an Anna undergoing ferocious concentration to winning a game she hadn’t touched in over three years.

 

"Would you prefer that I end the game?" Elsa asked gently. "I can win within… three, maybe five, moves. Depending on what you do."

 

Anna scowled at her. "Are you showing off?"

 

Elsa shook her head. "That would be unsporting," she answered honestly.

 

Anna looked this way and that at the board, scowled again, then grudgingly said, "Show me."

 

Elsa held out her hand. It was something her father had done when he had shown her why she had lost—made her extend her hand into his and he would move each individual piece that contributed to the defeat as a way to have her learn from her mistakes. She realized too late the effect Anna's touch would have on her, even through the gloves, and just managed not to let her hand shake.

 

"Well, if I take your bishop here..." Elsa curled Anna's hand around the curved head and placed it the piece to the side. "Then you may move here and take this pawn. As it happens, with the current state of the game, it does not matter if you take my pawn." She knocked the piece over and allowed it to roll about on the board.

 

Anna frowned. "Poor pawn."

 

"Sacrifices," Elsa agreed. "Then I would move my rook here." She guided Anna's hand to pick up the steepled black piece to place it near her white king. Anna's hand was warming her palm through the glove and Elsa had to focus to not let it distract her.

 

"Knowing you, you will triumphantly move your knight to claim my queen while ignoring my rook as your king is not in imminent danger or check. And you did always like taking the large important pieces." When Anna made a sound of affirmation, Elsa smiled. She flicked the black queen over and moved Anna's knight to take its place.

 

"An acceptable loss for me, because I will then move my remaining bishop to force you into checkmate—here." Then, encircling Anna's wrist, she brought the younger woman's hand all the way to the blonde's side of the board to allow her to pick up her aforementioned bishop and planted it a space away from Anna's white king.

 

She could feel Anna's pulse thrum under her thumb and resisted the urge to caress it. She ought to let go. She _should_ let go. But she didn't. Anna's slender hand remained in hers, limp and compliant, waiting for instruction.

 

"And that is checkmate," she finished. The library was warm now, and smelled gently of burning wood. Her coat was still draped over Anna, covering her bare shoulders. Anna looked good in it, wearing Elsa’s clothes, her eyes still upon the board, contemplating what Elsa had shown her. The queen drank the sight of her in and felt like an idiot. A lovesick idiot who was bound to have her heart broken and _goddamn it, her hand was still holding onto Anna_.

 

Anna was so beautiful. Elsa loved every part of her. Her freckled skin, her blue eyes, her lovely copper hair, the open honesty of her face, the sweet whimsical side of her. All of it that made Anna who she was. And beneath her hand, Elsa knew Anna’s hands would be calloused from gripping reins, though she may not have been riding much of late—the callouses would be fading, then. And Anna was so graceful on a horse—she rode like she was born in the saddle and Elsa could just watch Anna ride and she would be content.

 

She wasn’t prepared for the rush of tenderness that filled her chest and throat, and it rendered her silent. She knew what Anna's lips felt like now, knew how she tasted, how Anna would tug at her plaintively when she thought Elsa was not kissing her enough. She knew how Anna sounded when Elsa had done something to please her. And she knew how it felt to dance with Anna. These were things that Elsa thought she would never have the privilege of knowing, even during the course of their betrothal, and to have experienced it all on the same day, as well as _wedding_ her... Elsa still wondered, at the back of her mind, if the day was just a particularly vivid and prolonged dream because there were far too many fulfilled wishes for it to be real.

 

The silence stretched. Anna’s eyes, so dear, rose to meet hers. Before Elsa knew it, Anna had picked up her white king and delivered the piece slowly, with Elsa’s _damned hand still on her wrist like a shackle_ , to Elsa’s side of the board. The marble piece clicked gently next to Elsa’s felled queen that was listing by her black king ensconced by a cadre of pawns.

 

She tried not read anything into it. It was customary to present the winner with the most important piece—the king. It was… it was…

 

Elsa didn’t know anymore. She hadn’t been lying when she said that it had been a long day. Too much had happened to her, battered her, worn her down—a wedding, ardent kisses in a carriage, showed her half-clothed female form to Anna, another kiss before the ball, the dance, the damnable _comtesse_ —who she was determined to crush for almost ruining it all unless Anna was going to stop her in that regard as well—and a chess game that had become too intimate, mixed in with memories of her father. She was drowning in emotion and didn’t want to even try to understand it.

 

And of course, there was Anna herself, who always overwhelmed Elsa on every front imaginable. She had no defenses against Anna because she didn’t _want_ to shield herself from Anna, even if it meant preserving herself. Anna was simply a part of her. She thought about those letters made with Anna’s words and every cherished childhood memory and—yes. Always a part of her. Anna had shaped her to who she was now. 

 

Elsa finally allowed her mind to empty into comforting oblivion. She exhaled slowly, the sound deafening in the silence, her limbs relaxing. She was well and truly exhausted.

　

Whatever was going to happen would happen. She would not fight it.

 

She released Anna and, with a brush of a gloved finger, Elsa surrendered her king and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it occurred to me that people may still be expecting the story to fall within the parameters of the original Tumblr prompt that I posted on chapter one. To be honest, I had not expected this fic to grow and take on a life of its own as it has, and I don't really want readers to continue without some clarification. So, basically, the prompt is kind of null and void at this point. While yes, there will be misunderstandings, I don't intend on writing contrived situations just for the sake of the prompt, and these misunderstandings will have some justification, namely, the state of Elsa and Anna's relationship at that point. I'd like their marriage/relationship to evolve with them.
> 
> So, tl;dr version: Ignore the prompt from here on. Actually, you can probably ignore the prompt from chapter one forward. Do not base your expectations on the prompt. And sorry for the long A/N, I do dislike writing long ones, but I didn't want readers to be misled about the story's focus.
> 
> Also, thanks continue to go out to TheKyttin13 for so much excellent beta-ing work, as well as 4mation for reading this particular chapter over and telling me it isn't terrible (both are on ff.net).
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. I apologize for the glacial pace in-story, we are STILL on the wedding day, but it's almost over... I've updated the rating to Mature; yes, for sexual content in later chapters. I felt like I should toss that out there, in case anybody is wondering if Elsa and Anna will ever, you know, do that.
> 
> PS-I almost forgot again, but there was a reader who had asked for a picture of the suit I had in mind for Elsa during her dance. Here is the link for the reference I used: http://www.gentlemansemporium.com/store/media/002605/002605_01.jpg


	7. Chapter 7

Anna kept looking at her knights.

 

The chess pieces were finely carved and imported from Italy. She knew because Uncle Alexander had given it to Elsa as a birthday present and Anna had been present for the occasion. She remembered Elsa’s surprise at the beautiful gift and how her face had lit as Elsa touched each piece reverently as though they were already family heirlooms. Elsa had just turned eleven and Anna had been eight.

 

It wasn’t until later, when Uncle Alexander had set up the board to play a match with Elsa in a corner, that Anna had quietly asked her father, King Frederick, why Elsa would want another chess set. After all, Elsa already had a set made of mahogany and it was just as nice. Her father had said that that set was getting worn; Elsa still sometimes froze the pieces by accident and the damp was damaging the wood finish. Marble, while heavy, could tolerate the frost without complaint.

 

Elsa had never used the wooden set again; every subsequent chess game had been played with the marble set. Anna was quite familiar with it, but she still felt vaguely stupid for not realizing earlier that Elsa never took her knights. At the start, probably before Elsa had taken up her sweet, mad quest to not steal the pretty horses that Anna liked so much, Anna had considered it a triumph if she survived a game without losing her knights—she wouldn’t even try to save both. Just one would have been enough. Anna had known she couldn’t beat Elsa; the very notion of actually winning was rather quixotic. So she’d focused on what she could achieve, which was preserving her favorite piece.

 

And then Elsa had decided not to take them at all, simply because Anna had looked sad. Anna wished she'd known, though she wasn't sure what she'd have done with the knowledge. And Elsa had always won so fast, butchering Anna's side with the swiftness of an executioner; but at the time, a young Anna would have just been relieved that it was over with and eager for Elsa to be released from her lessons for the day to play.

 

It was so romantic. So stupidly romantic. Who needed a dragon to slay when one had a princess—well, queen now—making such gestures? And it couldn’t have been meant to be romantic because Elsa had done it as a child and probably only did it as a small mercy.

 

Still, Anna felt very touched, so she did not begrudge Elsa for letting her win the current game. They both knew Anna was terrible at chess and she finally confronted Elsa about it.

 

Elsa offered to end the game within just a few moves.

 

“Show me,” Anna said, extending her hand to meet Elsa’s.

 

Elsa’s hand covered hers. A cloth-covered palm slid over the back of Anna’s hand, scraping her knuckles. Certainly not a child’s hand anymore; Elsa’s fingers were just a bit longer than Anna’s, but still slender. Elsa’s hand cradled the back of Anna’s, guiding her to a chess piece and, with the lightest touch, their fingers just barely tangling, urged Anna to grasp her white bishop. The younger woman could feel Elsa’s warmth and presence seeping into her bones like the reverb of waltz music.

 

Anna tried to focus on Elsa’s voice as the queen explained her strategy. Anna preferred the tangible and the present, like the feel of a saddle beneath her and the sun on her face; she’d never been one to ponder abstract strategies or anticipate an opponent’s tactics, but she could admire Elsa’s ability to think like that and how Elsa’s mind was always working and adapting to Uncle Alexander’s lessons.

 

Elsa’s voice was almost clinical in the way she explained each move, but there was an undercurrent of fondness when she considered how Anna would most likely move. And Elsa was right in all her predictions, but Anna wasn’t surprised at her own transparency; Elsa simply knew these things like the way she knew what chocolates Anna liked. And the fact that Elsa knew Anna so well endeared the queen to Anna in ways she had difficulty articulating.

 

And then Elsa’s hand curved around her wrist before Anna realized what she was doing. Her thumb swept up to fit neatly under the bump of Anna’s wrist bone and around to meet her opposing middle finger that had slipped under the joint. Anna’s pulse fluttered beneath Elsa’s delicate hold like a caught bird, right against the queen’s fingertips.

 

The feel of Elsa holding her like this, touching the vulnerable skin underneath and knowing the cadence of her heart made Anna swallow. The touch was shockingly sensual and intimate. Anna had never felt anything like it before. She had to grip the edge of the table with her free hand to find some respite from what she was feeling and bite her lip to keep from groaning out loud. She was entirely warm, almost burning, and the fact that Elsa’s coat was covering her, immersing her in Elsa’s scent, only made her ache all the more with want. It might as well have been Elsa herself embracing her, but only Elsa’s hand was on her, her grasp innocent, but it didn’t feel that way.

 

And Anna knew, she knew, that she would be undone if she looked at Elsa’s face and saw any signs of reciprocation. She would crawl over that damn board, uncaring of her spared knights and pawns and bishops, right into Elsa’s lap and kiss her until Anna could fill that growing void that gnawed inside her. She fixed her eyes on the board and hoped she looked attentive, trying to measure her breaths to not turn into outright gasps.

 

Elsa drew her hand forward with the lightest touch, like a skilled rider’s tug upon reins, and Anna followed with the obedience of a well-trained mount. Was Elsa going to…? Oh, god. Anna managed to contain her swallow when she saw that Elsa was not going to drag their joined hands anywhere on the queen’s person, stopping just above Elsa’s remaining black bishop.

 

Right, they were still on the subject of chess. Chess had never been this scintillating before. She doubted Elsa was doing it on purpose and it made it even more intense that Elsa could have such a profound effect on her without trying. God. She was probably going to go to hell for having these thoughts. And all the other thoughts she’d been entertaining throughout the day.

 

On that cheerful note, Anna followed Elsa’s cue and took the bishop. Elsa guided it back to Anna’s entrapped white king.

 

“And that is checkmate.” Elsa’s voice broke through Anna’s dazed state.

 

Yes, it was checkmate. Anna had just been thoroughly thrashed and did not care in the least. Not that she had before either, but still, it was a small comfort to know that at least the difference of chess proficiency hadn't changed in the past few years.

 

Infinitely more importantly, though, Elsa had not let her go. Her hand was still cupped around Anna’s wrist as though it was made of glass. Anna bit her lip again, trying to make herself breathe, but all she could smell was Elsa. Winter’s scents, she thought, and the barest trace of lavender. Her other hand was shaking with the force of her grip on the table and it was so tenuous already. The longer Elsa held her, the more Anna wanted.

 

But words were not coming to her. Her mind felt sluggish, unable to conjure up a single coherent thought, but she was feeling so much. She didn’t even know if she wanted to tell Elsa because imagining what Elsa might do…

 

With her almost unaware of it, Anna’s captive hand found her defeated, but still standing, white king. She finally looked up and saw Elsa watching her intently.

 

Elsa looked so elegant in her white shirt and black cravat, her pale hair like spun gold in the fire’s light. Their eyes met and Anna’s throat closed, speech fleeing her. What words could she offer to Elsa? Anything Anna could come up with seemed wholly inadequate for her. She wasn’t a poet nor an artist; she was simply Anna and that had never felt so sharply lacking before than it did in the current moment. But Elsa still had not released her wrist and that had to mean something. It had to. She hoped Elsa would understand.

 

Anna moved her king to Elsa, placing it next to her black king. An offering.

 

Elsa’s eyes were steady, not breaking away until the queen finally shut her lids and sighed. She freed Anna, her gloved hand retreating.

 

The memory of Elsa's hand on hers burned like an iron brand just lifted away from flesh, the heat—or the absence of it— lingering further like an old wound reminding its owner of her error.

 

Anna saw Elsa’s black king topple over and careen into the presented white king. She looked back at Elsa. The queen looked so tired and defeated, like she had been the one who’d just lost the match, but nobody looked that sad over a chess game.

 

Anna’s heart clenched.

 

Elsa looked so human. What had she been thinking, comparing her to such lofty inanimate things like paintings? Elsa was flesh and blood, albeit exceptionally beautiful, but a person, and one who hurt.

 

Before she could think about it, before she could over-complicate it with doubt, Anna grabbed Elsa’s dominant hand and rose off her armchair, Elsa’s coat sliding off her shoulders. Anna splayed her other hand on the board to lean over it, knocking pieces askew and sending them tumbling to the floor. Anna didn't care, they were just game pieces, not tiny messengers. Standing stock still, eyes locked to Elsa’s wide, surprised ones, Anna dragged Elsa’s hand to her cheek, making Elsa touch the younger woman’s face.

 

Elsa’s breath rushed out as her lips parted. Her jaw hung open in abject shock and confusion.

 

As a grand gesture, it failed on a few points, especially since the person it was meant for was staring at Anna like she’d just gone stark raving mad. What Anna had meant to do was show Elsa that she wasn’t alone, that her pain could be shared. Anna had seen the same gesture in a production of Romeo and Juliet some years ago during a part where the lovers were going on about their forbidden love.  There’d also been a great deal of melodramatics that had made her father roll his eyes and her mother dab at hers, and for some reason, that particular scene with the face touching had stayed with Anna.

 

The failing, though, was exactly because Anna had not thought it through (Elsa had not been present for the play and clearly had no idea what Anna was up to), but it was the thought (or lack of it) that counted. So, Anna completed it by gripping Elsa’s wrist, drawing the queen’s hand downward, and beginning to peel Elsa’s glove off.

 

Elsa almost lurched back, her shock was so great. Her jaw worked, struggling to speak, but no words came out. Anna wanted to crow—she’d rendered Elsa entirely speechless. Her hand started to tremble in Anna’s, but Anna continued on her mission, suddenly brimming with confident purpose.

 

Anna started by tugging at each clothed fingertip, grasping the cloth deftly between her own fingers. She wasn’t a stranger to gloves at all; she’d often ridden with leather gloves. But taking off someone else’s gloves—well, that was an entirely new experience for the younger woman.

 

She’d made it to three fingers before Elsa managed to collect her wits.

 

“Anna, what are you—what are you doing?” Elsa demanded in a furious whisper, her voice reed-thin, like she couldn’t get enough air.

 

Anna gripped Elsa’s wrist in a firmer hold to keep the queen in place. “Taking off your glove,” she replied in an unexpectedly steady voice, enjoying the blush that spread over Elsa’s cheeks. She knew, somewhat vaguely anyway, that what she was doing was not really appropriate and, for Elsa, Anna could have just said “stripping you nude” and it wouldn’t have been any more startling.

 

Elsa looked like she might faint, so it was a good thing she was still sitting. “Why?”

 

Anna didn’t answer, merely tugging the cloth free of Elsa’s thumb. “Am I not allowed to?” She countered.

 

The blonde opened her mouth, then shut it. Elsa simply sat there, quivering and wordless.

 

Anna pulled the glove off completely and sent it flying carelessly over her shoulder.

 

Elsa drew in a sharp breath. Anna glanced at her, but Elsa’s face was just stunned, though probably not for long, so Anna pressed home her advantage. Elsa’s bare hand was pale like the rest of her, which then occurred to Anna that she didn’t know how pale Elsa’s body was. But she would find out. Yes, going to hell. Nobody should be this happy about it, though.

 

The thought was heady and Anna had to breathe in and out a few times herself to keep from swooning for real. She focused back on Elsa’s hand. Her fingers were long and tapered, like a pianist’s. There were no signs of callouses as Anna knew that Elsa almost never took the gloves off. Perhaps that had changed in the past four years, but going by how unblemished her hand was without even the slightest traces of ink stains or scars…

 

Anna was likely the first person who’d had the privilege of touching Elsa’s bare hand in a very long time. That thought was just as heady as the image of a naked Elsa. Elsa’s hand was practically virginal.

 

The thought was unexpectedly, and painfully, erotic. Anna tingled with the knowledge. And she knew what she wanted to do about that.

 

Anna bent her head down and pressed a kiss to Elsa’s palm. The skin was soft as a feather and silky smooth, and the queen trembled. Anna thought she heard Elsa groaning softly. She flicked her eyes up and saw Elsa’s eyes closed tight and her throat bobbing.

 

Emboldened, Anna turned Elsa’s hand over and brushed her lips over each knuckle. In a way, she was returning the kiss Elsa had given to Anna's hand on the stairs in apology before Anna, greedy as she had been, asked for more. The queen’s hand quivered again and there was another sound that was part gasp and part groan that left a pleasant coiling sensation in Anna’s belly. With each kiss, she lingered just a little, letting her warm exhales wash over pale skin. Elsa’s hand flexed every time—her hands may have been pampered, but the strength in them was undeniable.

 

When she was done, Anna lowered Elsa’s hand, her own breaths quickening. Anna’s skin was on fire, but Elsa looked… god, Elsa looked ruined.The queen’s other hand was digging into the arm of her chair and her face was blushing heavily, eyes closed and mouth panting. Her blonde hair somehow looked slightly mussed even though it was still tied back.

 

Anna wanted to groan herself. God. She’d never seen anything so provocative. Lady Charlotte had nothing on Elsa. Nothing at all.

 

Then Elsa’s eyes opened and she looked at Anna for a moment, blue pupils dilated, and said in the lowest, roughest tone Anna had ever heard from her, the kind that forbade defiance, “Come here.”

 

An electric shock went down her spine and Anna obeyed without question. She released Elsa’s hand, skirted around the table, and then she was in Elsa’s arms, legs straddling either side of the queen’s lap, and their lips crashing together.

 

Anna cupped both sides of Elsa’s jaw and feasted on her mouth. It was as though she was starving and all she could do was kiss Elsa to keep from dying. And Elsa tasted like the chocolates they’d shared, a surprise that made Anna hum.

 

Their kisses were rough, much rougher than their previous ones. They were clumsy despite the practice, finesse forgotten in the face of raw hunger. Teeth were bumped together and lips bruised, but neither cared and continued to press fervently against each other.

 

Anna nipped Elsa’s lower lip experimentally, shivering when Elsa moaned at the tiny hurt. And then Anna felt arms wrapping around her waist, trying to fit her into a better position without breaking their kiss. The younger woman tried to help and shifted gracelessly about, her beautiful green dress tangling and getting in the way, until Elsa made a noise that sounded like utter frustration and actually cupped Anna’s bottom with her hands to ease her into place. Anna gave a shocked whimper, but slid forward obligingly, her hips nestled against Elsa’s abdomen.

 

Elsa felt hot even through the layers of clothes. Anna could feel Elsa’s breasts against her own, wonderfully soft, and Anna was surprised at how much she wanted to just slide her hands down past Elsa’s shoulders and sternum and touch—

 

And then Elsa interrupted that thought by ghosting her naked hand up the back of Anna’s dress, fingers gliding up past the stays where the dress ended just below Anna’s shoulder blades and onto bare skin, making her brain just fizzle like a dying candle. Elsa’s hand was on her bare skin. On her bare skin.

 

Anna moaned into Elsa’s mouth. Elsa’s palm was hot on her back, sliding up and disappearing briefly until Anna felt a tug—Elsa had a hold of the green ribbon woven into her hair.

 

Elsa broke the kiss, her breathing puffing against Anna’s lips, and said in guttural voice, “Your hair, Anna, I want your hair down now—”

 

Again, Anna obeyed without thinking. She sat back on Elsa’s thighs and immediately began pulling the pins and ribbon out. Anna didn’t make a show of it—she simply dragged her fingers through her tresses to pull them free of the bun and plait. She could feel Elsa’s eyes burning on her skin and, for the first time, felt truly desired and wanted.

 

Finally, copper locks fell down past her shoulders and upper back. Elsa wasted no time—she pulled Anna back, tilting Anna’s head back with her other gloved hand on her jaw and the queen pressed her lips to Anna's vulnerable neck. Anna bit down on her lip to stifle what would have been an embarrassingly loud cry, arching into Elsa. God, Elsa’s hand was at her back again, fingers tangled in her loose auburn hair and holding Anna in place.

 

Anna felt as though every nerve in her was shivering alive. She was mindless with enjoyment, trying to contain her whimpers while Elsa did delicious things to her throat that—and, oh, Jesus, Elsa actually trailed her tongue along the tendon in Anna’s neck. Her knees turned to jelly and she unconsciously lifted her hips, releasing a strangled sound of pure pleasure. Shaking, Anna shoved at Elsa’s shoulders until the blonde’s back was flat against the armchair.

 

“Not fair,” Anna whispered, her eyes staring down into Elsa’s, their foreheads touching. Her long hair curtained their faces in, shielding them from the outside world.

 

“What isn’t?” Elsa asked, head leaning back to watch Anna. Her voice was a low purr that slid over Anna’s skin like a caress. That voice was going to kill her, Anna was sure of it. Elsa’s wrists were pinned under Anna’s hands on the chair’s arms, but the queen didn’t look the least bit perturbed that she was being restrained.

 

“That you can… do these things,” Anna said back. Her eyes flicked to the side, past Elsa’s face. “Don’t move.”

 

Elsa nodded once, but her eyes heated in the way that meant her obedience was only temporary.

 

Anna reached for the blue ribbon end that peeked over Elsa’s shoulder and pulled it free; the knot was simple and gave way easily. And now they were even, Anna thought with satisfaction. Elsa shook her head slightly to spread the previously tied hair.

 

Then Anna raised her hands to Elsa’s cravat and sat back to examine the knot. Much more complicated than the hair ribbon had been, the younger woman decided. She snuck a peek at the queen—Elsa was watching her beneath hooded lids, hands still limp, but she exuded a dangerously unpredictable air, like the snow leopard Anna had compared her to.

 

Anna squirmed. She found it so arousing that it had to be plain as day. Her fingers shook as she held the silk and started to undo it.

 

“Someone told me it’s usually the valet or my wife who is supposed to do this,” Elsa said softly.

 

“I did offer my services earlier,” Anna said, her words just as soft.

 

“Yes, but I think that’s for putting it on.”

 

“Oh, should I leave the removing to you, then?” Anna asked coyly. “I’m just about… done.” She slid the cravat off and tossed it somewhere, probably wherever the blue ribbon had ended up. She smirked challengingly at Elsa. “It’s gone now. Unless you want me to get it and put it back on you. I’d be quite happy to—” She had no intention of leaving, but she made to lift herself off Elsa, just to see what she would do.

 

Elsa’s response was immediate and gratifying—she seized Anna by the hips and yanked her back down. Blue eyes glared up at Anna in ill temper.

 

“No.” Elsa sounded exceptionally cross. “Leave it.”

 

Anna settled back into Elsa’s lap and boldly draped her arms around the blonde’s shoulders. She kissed Elsa lightly in apology. “Your other glove’s still on,” Anna murmured.

 

“Mm. I’m sure you’ll find some way to take care of that. You did with the first one.”

 

Anna giggled and drew back, smiling. The atmosphere had calmed and turned playful. At least they weren’t frantically clawing at each other in a craze of lust. And Elsa’s lap was remarkably comfortable. “Do you want me to?”

 

Wordlessly, Elsa held up her gloved hand between their faces. “By all means,” she said dryly. “It seems like I have no choice in the matter.”

 

Well. “By all means” was certainly leaving it up for interpretation. Anna half-considered pulling the glove off with her teeth, just to watch Elsa eat her words, but decided to just tug it off in the most pedestrian and least provocative manner possible—she was enjoying the playful freedom. Elsa’s remaining glove joined the cravat and ribbon, or Anna assumed it did; she really had no interest in things that kept Elsa covered up.

 

Elsa settled her hands back on Anna’s hips and glanced at the younger woman. “Whatever just happened,” she started.

 

Anna tensed. She didn't have a good feeling about whatever Elsa had to say.

 

Elsa frowned, noticing Anna’s reaction. “I was going to say that it wasn’t my fault this time,” she finished neutrally. “Unless you think otherwise.”

 

Anna stared at her. “Why does it need to be anybody’s fault?”

 

Elsa stared back. “Anna, we almost consummated our marriage in the library.”

 

Well. When Elsa put it that way… “But you didn’t even get under my skirt,” Anna said with a cheeky grin. “Even I know that to consummate a marriage, you need to—”

 

Elsa closed her eyes in apparent mortification and covered her face with a hand as Anna started laughing. “No! Stop that train of thought at once. Good god, Anna.” The queen peeked through her fingers at the younger woman. “I don’t think I will ask you how you know how marriages are consummated.”

 

“I’ve seen horses being bred, Elsa,” Anna giggled. “I know how the… mechanics work. I presumed marital relations are similar,” she finished, affecting an airily knowledgeable tone.

 

Elsa groaned, but didn’t deny it. “No details, please. Especially not about horses.”

 

“What, have you never seen animals breeding? Not even a barn cat or stray dog somewhere?”

 

Elsa glared at her, cheeks pink. “Why would there be a stray animal of any kind wandering the castle? Much less multiple of the same to procreate?” She asked icily.

 

Anna laughed again. Oh, goodness, but Elsa was sheltered. It was both sweetly endearing and empowering—Anna was used to thinking that Elsa knew, well, just about everything. Clearly she would need to adjust her expectations. The younger woman fingered Elsa’s collar and smiled down at her fondly. “You need to get out more.”

 

“To see how more cats are made?” Elsa said with a faint curl of her lip and looking very snobby indeed.

 

Anna was not offended in the least. She knew how to fix that—she leaned in and kissed Elsa very softly on the lips. “It’ll be good for you,” Anna whispered against her mouth, pleased when Elsa shuddered. “I think I know what’s best for you anyway.”

 

“Do you?” Elsa answered, her breath hitching. She looked distracted.

 

“I’m your wife. It’s my job.”

 

Elsa’s brows lifted at that pronouncement. “Where on earth did you get that idea?” She inquired, with faint amusement.

 

“Elsa, have you seen my parents? My mother bullies my father relentlessly and he just goes along with it, probably because the alternative is too horrifying to consider. And they seem to be happy as clams with this arrangement. It’ll work for us, too, I’m sure,” Anna said with that same hammy tone that made Elsa’s lips twitch.

 

“I’m not sure I want our marriage to be compared to my in-laws’.” Elsa frowned. “Wait, am I the man in this scenario of yours?”

 

“Well, you’re not in a skirt,” Anna said patiently. “You were pretty clear on that earlier if you’ll recall.”

 

Elsa reddened. “Well, I hadn’t meant it that way—”

 

“Uh-huh.” And because Elsa looked so adorably flustered, Anna leaned in for another long kiss. Now that they were well and truly alone with little chance of interruption, it seemed Elsa was more open to kisses and Anna had every intention of taking advantage of that. Or maybe she’d just softened Elsa up enough earlier and the queen was too addled to resist. Either way, Anna wasn’t one to pass up opportunity.

 

After a minute of luxurious kissing that had Anna squirming in Elsa’s lap again, Elsa broke away with a gasp. “Anna, wait. I think we need to talk.”

 

Elsa could still think? Anna wondered dazedly. Maybe she was doing the whole kissing thing wrong because Anna was fairly certain her brain had vacated her skull several kisses ago. She blinked owlishly down at Elsa, wondering what was more important than kisses. “What about?”

 

“About—about consummating.”

 

“I said you didn’t, you hadn’t even gotten up my skirt—”

 

“Not like that!”

 

Anna examined Elsa’s serious, though very red, face, then sighed and leaned her forehead against Elsa’s, their noses brushing. Whatever it was, Elsa clearly thought it was more important than kisses and Anna would have to gather her wits. She took a deep, marginally calming breath. “Okay. Not about skirts.”

 

“No, not about them, though you seem to like to fixate on them,” Elsa muttered. “We need to talk about the wedding night."

 

"What about it?"

 

"Anna, I'm not entirely sure what you're expecting for it. It's not...exactly like horses." She nearly choked on the "horses" part.

 

"Well, of course not, unless you happen to be a very cleverly disguised boy." Anna smiled. "It would explain the wardrobe choices you've made today."

 

Elsa glared at her. "No, I am certainly not. Please take this seriously."

 

"I am!" Anna sat back and looked at Elsa with attentive eyes, arms still loosely linked around her neck.

 

Elsa shut her eyes briefly. "Perhaps we should conduct this conversation with you in a chair."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because rational thought is impossible when you are sitting on my lap," Elsa growled like a poked bear.

 

"Well, this was your idea," Anna shot back, miffed at Elsa’s tone. "Me in your lap, that is."

 

The queen stared at Anna incredulously. "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation."

 

“Neither can I, but here we are.” But Anna climbed off Elsa with a tinge of regret and nearly tripped on a fallen chess piece on her way back to her armchair. The younger woman thought she heard stifled laughter from behind her and glared over her shoulder, but Elsa’s placid face looked back with nary a hint of mirth.

 

“Your idea,” Anna repeated pointedly, and plopped back in her seat, folding her arms petulantly like a child.

 

They glowered at each other like two boxers waiting for the bell to sound.

 

“We don’t have to,” Elsa finally said.

 

“Oh, now you change your mind about talking—”

 

“I meant we don’t have to consummate the marriage,” Elsa interrupted tightly.

 

Anna clamped her mouth shut.

 

“As you pointed out earlier, I am not a man. Consummation, in the strictest sense, is between a man and a woman for the purpose of progeny. The point is moot as it pertains to our marriage.” Elsa’s voice was detached and clinical, like she was reciting a script.

 

It was more rejection, every word of it, even the delivery. Only Elsa hadn’t really rejected Anna, exactly, which Anna realized only after enduring several moments of breathless hurt. So the younger woman forced herself to examine what Elsa wasn’t saying. The queen was sitting there, looking deliciously mussed—tousled hair, rumpled shirt, swollen lips. And Anna had recently just crawled out of her lap—again. Elsa had enjoyed their kisses, that point was irrefutable, and she had liked having Anna pressed against her. And growing up with an older brother and many stable hands had taught Anna that the natural progression from kissing and groping in closets and dark corners was usually to trysts in stable stalls and unused bedrooms. Though, as Elsa had helpfully pointed out, the queen wasn’t a man, but surely those feelings were similar in women—the need to, well, finish, as Anna had once overheard a groom say. She was certainly feeling quite...urgent.

 

And then Anna finally saw it. Elsa’s breathing was slightly uneven, though she was trying to hide it, and her eyes were unfocused and a little glazed, aimed deliberately over Anna’s shoulder. The realization made Anna’s own breath catch. Elsa heard it and her eyes flicked to meet Anna’s, then immediately cut away again.

 

“We don’t need to consummate our marriage,” Anna began slowly.

 

Elsa flinched.

 

“But I see no reason not to.”

 

Elsa’s eyes whipped back to Anna’s. The blue in Elsa’s eyes was so intense that Anna half-expected them to start glowing.

 

“No,” Elsa said.

 

“Don’t I get a say in the matter?” Anna said, starting to feel just a bit irritated with her new wife. Yes, ‘wife.’ She’d settled on ‘wife’ because no matter how she looked at Elsa, she was definitely a woman and ‘husband’ just felt strange on her tongue now, even if she had spent a few years expecting to get one.

 

“You don’t know what you want,” Elsa said curtly. It was so superior and patronizing, Anna nearly snatched up the hefty king piece off the board and hurled it at Elsa’s head. It was almost as bad as when Kristoff did that to her and Anna had no qualms about exacting physical discipline on her big brother for being an insufferable prat.

 

“And what, you do?” And then it occurred to Anna that Elsa really might, with experience to back it up. “Wait, have you ever—you know!”

 

Elsa crossed her arms and scowled at Anna. “No, I do not know. What are you talking about?”

 

Oh, god, how obtuse could Elsa be? Was it on purpose? She was going to make Anna say it and, well, she actually knew quite a few ways to phrase it (courtesy of the Corona royal stables staff again), but the thought of bringing those kinds of words to this particular discussion seemed truly uncouth. She settled on the most socially acceptable one. “Intimate relations.”

 

Elsa blinked at her, then went scarlet as the words sank in, her composure cracking. “What—no! I have—no! Anna, really, intimate rela—no. No. Good grief,” she said in a mortified, fragmented rush.

 

“Oh, well, good,” Anna said, feeling awkward and relieved. “I haven’t either,” she added, because it only seemed fair.

 

Elsa looked away. “I know. That you... wouldn’t have,” she said softly.

 

“Well, then we’re on even keel, aren’t we? Neither of us have and we’re married, Elsa, I know even if we don’t need to, I want to—”

 

“Anna, I’m not sure if it’s right for us to,” Elsa cut her off, turning back to face her. She seemed to struggle with herself, then sighed. “I will be honest if you will.”

 

“Of course.” Which was all Anna wanted, really. This back and forth between she and Elsa was tiring and confusing.

 

“We haven’t spoken to each other in four years. We’ve—we’ve changed, Anna. God, you were only thirteen when we were betrothed, and to another female, no less. It’s so rarely done these days, for monarchs, I mean, that I don’t really know what to expect,” Elsa confessed. “There’s just… so many things that have changed with the marriage.”

 

“But Elsa, it hasn’t changed all that much,” Anna started, trying to sound reasonable and wondering what was prompting Elsa’s sudden reluctance. “Both of us always expected to marry at some point, maybe not to each other, but someone. How is it any different with us than between a man and a woman? We’ll still be living in Arendelle and I’ll be the princess-consort instead of, well, I guess if you’d married a man, he’d be the prince-consort. I’m still afforded the same privileges, you’re still queen.”

 

“There are other differences, Anna.” Elsa’s expression went carefully blank. “We can’t have children.”

 

That fact was something Anna had known, of course. She knew it was a wife’s duty to produce heirs, but, again, a moot point if Elsa was her spouse. It was just a little surprising to hear it said out loud.

 

“We’ll adopt,” Anna said, smiling faintly. “We’ll have a half dozen heirs and I won’t have to turn into the size of a cow nine months out of as many years to have them.”

 

Elsa’s expression didn’t change. “A half dozen?” She inquired softly.

 

“The nursery is as big as the rest of the castle. We ought to fill it up.” Anna smiled again. “I like kids. But that’s for a bit farther down the road, right?” Her eyes went wide. “Because I don’t want them, you know, this very instant—”

 

Elsa gave her a distant smile. “Yes. For later.” There was a discordant note in there, so faint that it might have been mistaken as an issue with the listener’s ears, but it was enough to have Anna studying her with a frown. Elsa revealed nothing; it was something Anna filed away for later because if Elsa wasn’t going to tell her now during this impromptu candid talk, Anna would probably never get it out of her.

 

“Was that all of your most salient points, your majesty?” Anna asked imperiously. “I find myself unimpressed.”

 

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Well, given that this is probably the first actual conversation we’ve had in years, I find that it speaks for itself, your highness.” Elsa sneered a little bit. Anna even found that light touch of snobbery attractive. There was obviously something wrong with her.

 

“What, that we don’t know each other anymore?”

 

“Among other things, but that is probably the most glaring, yes.”

 

Anna smirked and leered at Elsa. She’d never leered at anyone before, so she hoped she didn’t look stupid. “What better place to learn than in the bedroom?”

 

“Stop. Stop that right now,” Elsa ordered. “That look would frighten small children, my god, wipe it off your face this instant.”

 

Anna let out an indelicate snort and started laughing. “Would it really?” She tried it again and went cross-eyed on the attempt.

 

Elsa groaned amidst Anna’s laughter and closed her eyes. “That is one way to put anyone off ‘intimate relations,’” she muttered. “Well done.”

 

“Oh, you liked it,” Anna said. “Just like we were kids, right? Oh, see! We still know each other.”

 

“As nice as it is that you’re so eager to commence the consummation,” Elsa started, ignoring the way Anna giggled at the alliteration. “There really is no rush. We have… all the time in the world.”

 

There was that discordant note again, but Anna didn’t pay it much mind this time. “So, you want to take it slow?”

 

Elsa nodded. “I don’t see why not.” She leaned forward and began to right the scattered chess pieces, her voice a study of collected calm. “The first time should be… memorable, shouldn’t it?”

 

Anna started to help pick up the pieces, a grin dancing on her lips. “I’ll never think of the library as boring and drafty again.”

 

Elsa managed to not blush at that. “You know what I mean,” she admonished. “What I am saying is that the circumstances warrant flexibility. There is nothing that we need to do, and there is no one that we need to answer to. It’s a rare opportunity.”

 

The younger woman’s eyebrows lifted. “What you’re saying sounds an awful lot like a courtship, Elsa. Only we’ve already reached the finish line and you’re suggesting we start over.”

 

Elsa appeared to ponder Anna’s words, then smiled ruefully. “Yes, I suppose that’s appropriate. We have four years to make up for.”

 

“And you think we should do this while remaining… chaste?” Anna said, dubious.

 

“Not entirely,” Elsa amended. “It can… lead to more. But maybe not on the very first day. Clearly we are… compatible,” she said with a faint pink tinge in her cheeks. “But there’s no harm in waiting, and we can ease into it rather than jumping in with no thought to, well, anything.”

 

Elsa wanted them to be chaste. How on earth could they manage that when even innocuous contact could turn them into cats in heat? And did that include no kissing as well? Because if it did, Anna had objections to this courtship idea.

 

Anna opened her mouth to ask but Elsa added before she could start, “I don’t want either of us to regret anything.”

 

“Oh,” Anna breathed out after a beat. Now she felt shallow for being so eager.

 

Elsa bent down to pick up a knight and set it on the board. Her long hair slid over her back and fell over her shoulder in a soft wave of platinum. “The stakes are a little higher than a courtship,” Elsa continued, her naked hands arranging the chess pieces into neat rows. “A courtship is supposed to lead to marriage, but it is by no means binding. And as you already iterated, we have already crossed the finish line. I think… I think it’s even more important that we try, at least, to do things in a way that we won’t regret later. To do it properly, as it were.  What do you think?”

 

As an argument, the logic was sound. Damn it, it made sense, even if Anna wanted to do more and Elsa clearly wanted to as well, but Elsa was obviously the only one who had a working brain between the two of them at the moment as Anna couldn't formulate any kind of counter argument without sounding like a child. Anna sighed in defeat.

 

“All right. We can take it slow.”

 

Elsa sighed as well, but she looked relieved. “Good. I’m glad that—no, just… it’s good. Slow is good.” She paused. “That leads to the subject of accommodations.”

 

“Accommodations?”

 

“Beds,” Elsa clarified. She paused again. “We’ll to need to sleep in separate ones if this is going to work.”

 

Well, apparently slow didn’t mean easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise update! I had planned to post this on Valentine's Day, but a surprise snowstorm has me trapped at home with work and school closed, and I finished editing the chapter and couldn't really justify not putting it up. Also, wow, first chapter where I did not have to add any line breaks, though this chapter is longer than the past ones (about 6600 words). As always, constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Also, forgot to mention, but the hand kissing Anna did to Elsa was very much inspired by some fanart of Anna basically making out with Elsa's hand. It's a longer strip, but I could only find a single picture of it, but I'm sure some readers are quite familiar with it. I've found the artist's pixiv page courtesy of another reader, here it is: http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=41015103
> 
> Also, this chapter has now been beta'd!


	8. Chapter 8

“Separate beds?” Anna exclaimed.

 

Elsa nodded. “If we’re going to take it slow.” Elsa also didn’t quite trust Anna to keep up her end of the bargain, not when Anna was giving her a look that made Elsa want to cross her legs, even with the chess board between them. Elsa’s naked hands unconsciously flexed on the chair arms, the material scraping on skin that was still warm from Anna. Elsa didn’t even trust herself to not do more the instant they were on a flat surface with considerably fewer articles of clothing between them.

 

“Is that why you had the Queen’s chambers prepared?”

 

Elsa shook her head. “No, that’s customary and unrelated to this. You should have your own rooms.” And that was mostly the truth, though Elsa had the chambers reopened also in case Anna wanted nothing to do with her, or at least in any kind of sexual way, which was now proving to be the exact opposite. Elsa might have been able to appreciate the irony if it weren’t for what had just happened between her and her new wife.

 

Elsa had turned into an animal. There was no way to say it other than that she’d turned into a lust-driven beast that had tried to devour Anna. She had had no control at all. And that was not customary or normal.

 

And most of all, that could _not_ be the person Anna had married. It had happened in the carriage and again just before the wedding party. Thankfully, those had been interrupted by circumstance and Elsa had been able to stop herself, but it’d been close. Very close.

 

She had never behaved that way before and it frightened her to have lost control so easily and repeatedly. And all in the space of a single day. Day-to-day stress and fatigue was one thing—accidentally frosting a fountain pen, dozing off over accounting books and waking to soggy parchment, even a small flurry of snowflakes if she happened to stumble and miss a step, but those were isolated incidents, things that happened intermittently over the course of weeks or months. The gloves didn’t always help, but they were good enough most of the time.

 

The gloves reminded her to be careful, to be aware, and, most of all, to conceal. Even if her powers were mostly public knowledge, even if she really didn’t have to hide it, she still didn’t want attention drawn to her for it; it was not what she wanted to be known or remembered for. Her father had taught her to value merit and ability through hard work and dedication. And control, iron control, was the single most important thing Elsa had worked for all her life and it was exactly for the purpose of controlling her curse.

 

But when Anna was near her the gloves did nothing; her hard-earned control simply vanished like it was never there. God, when Anna had been kissing her and straddling her, and all Elsa could breathe in was Anna’s scent and taste Anna on her lips, Elsa had turned into something else entirely.

 

She’d been _ready_ to exercise her right to Anna’s body in the library. She would have done it—she would have dragged up Anna’s dress and taken what was hers now by law. Yes, Anna had encouraged it with her stunt with Elsa’s hand, but Elsa had responded so stronglyto it.

 

When Anna had pulled the cloth off the first finger, Elsa had gone stock still. Her entire armhad tingled. Elsa’s hold on rational thought had begun to deteriorate by the third finger—she’d been overwhelmed by how _good_ it’d felt, how it’d been _Anna_ doing that to her, and how focused Anna had been on Elsa. Elsa’s knees had gone weak, but she still had to grip the chair arm with her free hand to keep herself from tearing both gloves off and lunging out of her armchair to grab Anna. She’d never felt such hunger before, like she’d subsisted on only bread and water for days and Anna was a treat dangled before her teasingly. Her entire body had shaken in ill-concealed relief when that glove was finally gone.

 

And when Anna had pressed her lips to Elsa’s palm, it was as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Elsa had broken out into a sweat and had to bite back the moan that’d been building at the back of her throat.

 

At that moment, she would have done anything Anna wanted. _Anything_. If Anna had asked her to buy up the entire damned railroad industry in England—and with the stock prices as they currently were, that feat could very well bankrupt Arendelle and throw the rest of Europe’s economy into a violent tizzy—Elsa would have signed the paperwork on the spot, ruined family legacy or not.

 

Elsa had been that out of her mind. It was terrifying that one person could have such an effect on her and she’d always known Anna could do that in an abstract sort of way, but knowing and experiencing were completely different things. And then Anna had kissed her knuckles and, _god_ , the way Anna’s hot breath had felt on the back of her hand… Elsa had had a fleeting, but intense, fantasy imagining that breath sliding down over her collarbone, lingering on a breast, then further down over her belly before her mind had promptly shut down in self defense. It’d been too much.

 

Instinct had taken over and when Elsa had finally been able to look at her wife again, Anna’s lips were parted, her tongue flicking out to wet them, and her eyes sultry as she met Elsa’s gaze. Then the words were out of Elsa’s mouth, infused with command and pure need, spoken in a way Elsa had never uttered before. And the way Anna had responded, so eagerly and willingly… That alone would have destroyed her if she hadn’t already been broken. Elsa just hadn’t cared anymore.

 

Elsa had had no idea of how much she’d enjoy having her bare hand wrapped in Anna’s hair, or how much she’d liked tilting Anna’s head back to expose her throat. God, that slim neck, so delicate and vulnerable and tempting, that Elsa had simply pressed her mouth to Anna’s throbbing pulse. Anna had been so warm and soft and Elsa had groaned at how much she wanted to _mark_ Anna. She’d wanted to bare her teeth and bite her wife where everyone could see it, and hard enough that Anna would have to cover it up. It had given her an illicit thrill to imagine Anna standing before a mirror the next day, examining the mark, touching it, knowing that it was Elsa who’d put it there.

 

Elsa had wanted so badly to savage Anna’s neck—almost quivered with it— and had even traced the place where she wanted to do it with her tongue before Anna had shoved her back against the chair.

 

The queen would have fought her until Anna had risen up on her knees to hover above Elsa and draped her copper hair over her—and that was all it had takenfor Elsa to calm down, along with Anna’s shaky request for her to stay still. Then Anna’s hands were on her, undressing her—a ribbon and a cravat, just small trappings of civilization—but it’d felt like surrender.

 

And then Anna had been teasing and laughing at her and Elsa had never felt quite so happy before. Just like that, one instant an aroused animal and then the next… just happy. Though the arousal had not been forgotten, it’d been temporarily muted in the face of Anna’s lighter mood.

 

The evening had taken a turn that Elsa had not been expecting at all. She hadn’t expected Anna to end up in her lap again _._ Or that she wouldget teased so much, good god, Anna did take after her mother no matter what she said to the contrary. And she hadn’t expected so many lovely kisses that had turned her mind into a sieve where thoughts simply flowed away and left behind nothing but raw, unfiltered sensation.

 

But things had been escalating so quickly, before Elsa could even _think_ about what the wedding night would mean. She’d largely avoided thinking about the physical aspect of their marriage—not that that had stopped impromptu daydreams and whatever other thoughts would creep up on her when her guard was down—that when she could grasp for some scrap of control, she’d managed to convince Anna to actually talk about that.

Elsa was cautious and no matter how much she wanted to, this was too important for them to blindly stumble into. And when she’d seen the way Anna looked at her so hungrily, she had to swallow and wonder if Anna was too caught up exploring newfound physical joys and savoring reciprocated desire for the first time **,** or if it was actually meant for Elsa. It’d just been so new for the both of them, their other encounters from the day notwithstanding.

 

She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of any first sexual encounter being regretted just because they’d rushed into it like fumbling adolescents. At that point, Elsa knew that she’d have to be the responsible one, so she’d said, in the most honest, emotionless way she could, why they didn’t need to consummate. Elsa hadn’t wanted to influence Anna’s decision by showing how much the queen wanted it.

 

Her heart had twisted painfully in her chest to see the hurt bloom over Anna’s face. She’d nearly apologized, before she realized she would undermine her own words, and bitten her tongue hard enough to bleed. But then Anna had said she still wanted to consummate and Elsa had been at a loss for words and had decided Anna hadn’t thought it through thoroughly enough because no matter how anyone looked at it, _Anna was willing to give up her virginity to someone she hadn’t seen in four years and had only spent a single day with._ It was par for the course for other marriages amongst nobility, but Elsa hardly wanted that for _their_ marriage.

Elsa had wanted both of them to be clear-headed and sure about it. And she’d brought up other points, just to make certain Anna had at least considered them.

She’d presented the most glaring deficiency of their union: children. And then Anna had surprised her with her response again—good god, Anna wanted a _half dozen of them_. She wanted to fill the nursery with children. Not that Elsa didn’t want children, but… _a half dozen of them._ Good grief. And then she realized that Anna didn’t know about the amendment to the marriage contract. Anna didn’t know that she needn’t settle for adoption.

Her father had not told her.

 

Elsa had felt something like despair settle over her at the realization. It would fall to Elsa to tell her own wife that she could… be elsewhere, if it were Anna’s preference. But Elsa hadn’t been able to say the words—her throat had lodged and her tongue turned to lead. _“For later,”_ had been all Elsa could manage, while in her mind, she’d been nearly hysterical. _Later, what? Later, Anna can have children? Later, Anna can find a suitable man? While trapped with you, too cowardly to tell her the truth?_ Which was all painfully true. How the hell was she going to tell Anna? And upon deeper introspection, the clause could be seen as another trap as well; at the very least, Anna’s firstborn would ultimately belong to the crown of Arendelle—afforded the privileges and protection, but never the freedom to be his or her own person. They could end up like Kristoff, chafing under royal duty and responsibility until they broke from the pressure, and then leavingunder the pretense of wanderlust. And that would break Anna’s heart.

 

There were more reasons, such as if marriage had a deeper meaning for Anna. Anna would not be able to be open with a relationship with another if she was still married to Elsa. Or if she was, her social standing would suffer for it; not even the Arendelle name could prevent reputation smears.

 

Elsa’s head had felt like it was about to burst from her thoughts. How had she not realized that Anna might not want her children to be subjected to royal responsibility? Granted, it had been Kristoff that had reminded Elsa of it and… god, Kristoff hadn’t even been gone that long when she’d last been to Corona to amend the contract. She hadn’t yet known then the real reason why Kristoff had left.

 

But within the swirling maelstrom, she knew one thing: they could not consummate. There were too many reasons against it and Elsa could hardly sort them all out with her mind exhausted as it had been. She needed time to think, to organize and figure out what was best. She couldn’t tell Anna that, so she’d continued on with a notion of courtship. Courtship was, in fact, something Elsa had wanted, deeply. If their marriage had not been arranged, if Arendelle’s future wasn’t threatened, if they were just two people who were free to choose whomever… Elsa would have courted Anna properly. She would have _earned_ Anna’s love and she would have known, then, that Anna wanted Elsa for her alone. That was the kind of union Elsa wanted—without heirs, duty, legacy, and an entire kingdom to stand between them. And done without regret.

 

And, most importantly, without consummation, annulment would then still be possible. If Anna wanted it, that door would still be open. But Elsa knew, she _knew_ , that she would need to tell Anna of the amendment before consummation. Elsa couldn’t decide it for her. The thought had filled her with more dread and killed any sexual desire rather effectively.

 

For the present time, Elsa had decided, separate rooms would be appropriate, so the servants could not dispute the lack of consummation just as well to prevent any actual consummation. And she’d have to limit their contact, especially kisses—Elsa could only endure so many tastes of heaven while anticipating purgatory at any moment; she was human, not stone.

 

“We should at least sleep in the same bed,” Anna said, her demeanor annoyed.

 

Elsa blinked, drawn back to the present. “People involved in a courtship generally don’t sleep in the same bed, Anna,” she pointed out.

 

“Yes, well, people involved in a courtship usually aren’t _married_ either,” was Anna’s peevish reply. “Just how far are we going to take this courtship idea of yours? We’re already not going to consummate. I draw the line at anything else you can think of.”

 

Elsa forced a small smile and hoped Anna didn’t notice it. Her face felt rather numb at the moment, much like the rest of her. She could hardly feel the chess pieces that were in her hands. “You’ve already agreed to it, Anna.”

 

“I said we’d take it slow, not be abstinent! I’m not going to molest you in your sleep, Elsa!” Anna squawked.

 

“Yes, and there won’t be any consummating tonight, which you also agreed to,” Elsa said gently. “It won’t hurt to sleep in separate beds, then.”

 

“I veto your courtship idea, then!”

 

Elsa felt a real smile spread. Anna looked adorable when she was red with indignation and, for a moment, Elsa was drawn away from her thoughts. “You can’t veto me.”

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

Elsa donned an arrogantly disdainful look that would probably drive Anna wild—she’d seen Kristoff employ a similar look to resounding success.  Hopefully, it would distract Anna from the argument; Elsa was feeling rather out of sorts and didn’t think she could manage fending off Anna’s campaign against courtship, which was really more of a delaying tactic at the moment until Elsa could properly think again. “I am the queen and your liege, your highness. You cannot veto anything I say.”

 

The expression and delivery achieved the intended effect. She watched in fascination as Anna’s face turned scarlet, her eyes widen and her lips compress into a tight line. When Anna’s eyes flicked down to the board, Elsa had just a moment of warning before Anna snatched up a knight and _launched it at her_.

 

Her reflexes were excellent, even if she spent most of her days behind a desk, so Elsa ducked just as the knight took flight. It sailed over Elsa’s armchair like a tiny, but deadly, Pegasus.

 

Elsa’s head rose back up cautiously and she stared at Anna. “You _threw_ a chess piece at me!”

 

Anna jabbed a finger at her and did not look a whit apologetic. “You deserved it!”

 

She hadprovoked Anna deliberately, but even so, that piece was made of marble and would have been painful if it’d found its target. “You could have hurt me! Are you aware that I could put you to death for an attempt on my life?” Elsa demanded.

 

Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It wouldn’t have _killed_ you. Maybe knock some sense into you. I threw it too high anyway.” She smirked smugly at Elsa. “I just wanted to wipe that look off your face.”

 

Well, Anna had succeeded. Elsa glared at her. “And you wonder why I don’t want us in in the same bed!”

 

“That’s because you’re being stupidly stubborn!” Anna snapped back. "I'm your wife, Elsa! I'm not even going to have sex on my wedding night!"

 

Elsa quirked a brow. “Is that what this is about?”

 

Anna blushed and crossed her arms defensively. “You can hardly blame me. I had—I had _expectations_ , okay? And you with your fancy words—”

 

“Fancy words—”

 

“Your _logic_ ,” Anna said accusingly, like it was a character flaw. “I said I’d go along with it, all right? I’m just… a little disappointed.”

 

God. Anna was destroying her all over again. Both guilt and longing pulled at her, but Elsa refused to budge. To busy herself, she rose to fetch the ejected knight. With her back to Anna, Elsa cradled the piece in her palm, her thumb sweeping along the elegantly carved head. A childhood habit to never take it—or maybe to save it? She was always looking out for Anna, in one way or another, always for what was best for her. This particular instance, the waiting and Anna’s disappointment, was just another manifestation of that habit, Elsa decided. She was doing the right thing. It had to be right.

 

She returned the knight to its place on Anna’s side of the board. Elsa laid her hand lightly on Anna’s shoulder, her fingers tangling in silken copper. “It’s been a long day,” Elsa said gently. “Perhaps we should go rest.”

 

“In separate beds.” It was a statement, but Anna phrased it hopefully, as though Elsa might have changed her mind. Anna looked up to meet Elsa’s eyes.

 

She shook her head and Anna pouted. “You’ll have to keep up your end of the bargain,” Elsa said. She hesitated, but leaned down and brushed her lips over the top of Anna’s head. She hadn’t done that in a very long time, but the gesture still felt familiar. Elsa took comfort in it. As she straightened, she felt Anna’s hand slip around her wrist. Her arm tensed briefly before Elsa forced herself to relax and look down quizzically.

 

“Proper kisses,” Anna told her. “If I’m going to agree to this, I want proper kisses.”

 

Elsa opened her mouth to say _no, we shouldn’t_ , but the words died when Anna squeezed her wrist and averted her eyes. 

 

“Please,” Anna whispered, and there was a pleading note in there that buried itself in Elsa’s chest and refused to be ignored. “I—I like our kisses.”

 

Elsa swallowed. How could she say no? She’d told herself she’d limit that part of their physical contact, but it seemed unduly cruel when Anna was asking her not to. Elsa gave her a stilted smile and nodded once. “All right.”

 

Relief flooded Anna’s face. She gazed up at Elsa expectantly, a small smile on her lips. “Well?”

 

“What, right now?”

 

Anna pouted again. “Elsa, you might kiss well, but they’re not so spectacular that you have to hoardthem like some greedy dragon with its gold.”

 

Elsa blinked, taking a moment to process what had just come out of Anna's mouth. “Did you—did you just compare kisses to—”

 

Anna turned an amazing shade of scarlet again. “I’m not good with words like you!” She wailed, embarrassment turning her voice shrill. “Don’t make fun of m—”

 

Elsa leaned down and interrupted the indignant tirade with a kiss, cupping the back of Anna’s neck to hold her steady. When she pulled back, Anna was still pink, but looked distracted rather than embarrassed.

 

“Happy?” Elsa asked. She resisted pointing out that she had just passed up a very good opportunity to tease Anna. She also struggled to not grin stupidly at the fact that Anna thought she kissed well. Elsa was going daft, she was certain of it. It would explain why thinking and control was so hard today.

 

Anna gave her a wordless nod and Elsa helped her up off the chair. She caught sight of a white glove peeking out behind Anna’s chair and bent down to pick it up. Elsa spotted its sibling close by and started to put them on when she stopped mid-motion.

 

With the gloves in hand, Elsa realized with a very strange sinking feeling that Anna may have ruined gloves for her. Not in the way that they wouldn’t serve their purpose, but every time she thought about them or looked at them, she knew she’d forever feel Anna pinching at the tips of her fingers, the cloth sliding off in a manner that was far too decadent and, oh god, how was she ever going to put on gloves again? They would always remind her of Anna and Anna’s lips on her hands and Elsa needed to put a halt to those thoughts immediately.

 

So, not only had Anna ruined Elsa for other people, Anna had also ruined Elsa’s only instrument of control for her powers. Anna had made gloves _erotic_. No, they wouldn’t even serve a purpose as gloves anymore because Elsa was certain people were not supposed to get aroused thinking about them. It was just another metaphor for Anna’s effect on her and Elsa could do absolutely nothing about it. What was one supposed to do if they were on a sinking ship and discovered the only boat available had gaping holes? She glared at the gloves and stuffed her hands back into them; neither sinking nor swimming was an option.

 

“Elsa?” Anna came up behind her to look at her curiously. “What are you doing?”

 

Elsa shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Just… we need to clean up. My cravat—”

 

Anna produced it. “I found it.” Her eyes dropped to Elsa’s collar and took on a playful gleam. “Shall I put it on you?”

 

Elsa simply held her hand out. “Maybe some other time,” she said, her voice dry. “Now, if you would help me find our ribbons…”

 

Anna turned up Elsa’s blue ribbon, but neither of them could find Anna’s green one. After several minutes of futile searching, Elsa dragged a hand through her hair and sighed. “All right, it’s late. I’ll look for it again in the morning.” She didn’t want to entertain any ideas of what tales would be spun if a servant found it.

 

“I’ll help, too,” Anna said.

 

Elsa aimed an amused look at her. “Will you be up that early? I seem to remember that you never rose before noon.”

 

“Elsa, I never get up that late!” Anna tucked a lock behind her ear and chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “What time do the servants get up?”

 

“About seven or so,” Elsa answered, smirking when Anna made a disbelieving sound. “That’s just when they rise, They don’t start the daily cleaning until about eight. Most of the staff is on leave for tomorrow, though,” Elsa added. “Wedding celebrations and all.”

 

“Oh. Will they even come into the library?” Anna asked hopefully.

 

“Maybe, just to make sure some guest didn’t wander in here that needs to be escorted out.” Elsa smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll be here before the servants will.”

 

Anna sighed in obvious relief. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re still an early riser.”

 

Elsa folded her coat and vest over an arm and turned to Anna. “Should I expect you at breakfast?”

 

Anna stifled a yawn. “I’ll be there. Probably.”

 

“You are allowed to sleep in, you know.” Elsa smiled. “You’re princess consort now.”

 

“With you as my liege apparently,” Anna retorted. They walked out of the library together and headed back to their rooms, shoulders brushing occasionally. “I’ll have to be introduced to the staff soon, won’t I?”

 

“Mm, yes,” Elsa agreed. “Most recognize you, though there’s been a few new ones, I’m sure.” There were quite a few new cooks, anyway.

 

Anna was quiet for a moment. “Elsa, what exactly am I going to do?”

 

“Your duties, you mean?”

 

Anna nodded. “I mean, I’ve been preparing to get married, well, all my life. I know part of my duties as the wife would be to oversee the household and organize, well, anything that needed to be organized, but… Gerda’s been doing that, hasn’t she? And I’m sure she’s already doing a better job than I could. You know how scatterbrained I am.”

 

Elsa glanced down at Anna. She was chewing her lip in the way Elsa knew she always did when Anna was thinking deeply on something. “You don’t have to do anything, really,” Elsa said with a faint smile. “I haven’t really involved myself in the household duties these past few years and the castle’s not falling about our ears. But you can change anything you see fit. Only a portion of the castle is actually being used.” Elsa hesitated. She wondered if this was the most appropriate time to say what she had in mind.

 

“Would you like to see what kind of work I’m involved in?” Elsa asked, holding her breath.

 

Anna started, turning a surprised look to Elsa. “You mean—you mean the business part?”

 

Elsa nodded. “Yes. The daily business affairs, as well as running Arendelle in general. It can be tedious, especially when it involves the fiscal reports—”

 

“You wouldn’t mind?” Anna asked in a small voice. “If I could, well, just watch?”

 

The offer had meant a great deal to Anna, Elsa realized. It’d meant more than Elsa had thought it would, but Elsa could understand the feeling of just being included in something and not being left out.

 

“Of course. I wouldn’t mind. Though if you’re just watching, you’ll just see me frowning a great deal and looking irritated,” Elsa chuckled.

 

Anna only smiled and turned to face Elsa when they arrived at the door of the Queen’s chambers. “You’re pretty even when you look grumpy.”

 

Elsa stilled. Anna thought she was pretty? The queen felt abruptly awkward standing there before Anna with Elsa’s coat and vest over her arm. She wondered if Anna thought she was pretty, even when she was wearing men’s clothes.

 

“Do you prefer it?” Elsa asked. “Me in masculine clothes, that is,” she added when a confused look passed over Anna’s face. Anna’s answer suddenly seemed to matter a great deal and Elsa waited anxiously, trying to keep her hands still and not fiddling with her coat.

 

“Do you?” Anna asked with a small smile. “Do you like wearing masculine clothes, Elsa?”

 

Elsa couldn’t quite meet Anna’s gaze. What was wrong with her? “I… don’t mind them,” she finally said. “I could learn to like them, but I’m used to dresses. I suppose what I’m getting at is… would you prefer that I wear men’s clothes more often?”

 

Anna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, ah…shouldn’t that be your decision? I admit, you do look very good in a suit, though.” Anna glanced at Elsa’s folded coat. “And lapels are wonderful things,” she murmured absentmindedly.

 

The queen frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Anna waved a hand. “Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.” Anna grinned. “I think you’re appealing in both male and female clothes. But you’re most definitely a woman, Elsa. I guess you’ll have to accept that as an answer because your clothes should be your choice, shouldn’t they?”

 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off Elsa’s chest and she let out a surprised laugh. “Yes, I suppose so. I’ll just surprise you, then, won’t I?”

 

Anna hummed in affirmation. She looked up expectantly, her lips still quirked in a smile.

 

Elsa bent down and kissed her wife. _Her wife_. The words still felt warm inside her. Elsa didn’t think she’d ever get tired of them. Anna hummed with pleasure, a hand coming up to grasp a handful of Elsa’s shirt front to hold the queen in place. Their lips lingered sweetly together, with just a hint of heat. It felt like a promise and warmed Elsa to her toes. No, she would not think about the clause or the future, she thought stubbornly. The moment was theirs alone, and Elsa would enjoy it for exactly what it was. 

 

“Good night,” Elsa murmured once they parted.

 

Anna gave her a sidelong look that was clearly meant to be inviting, but Elsa only smiled and waited for the door to close after her. The queen brushed her hand over the panel fondly, then walked to her room. She had a feeling she would sleep well and, for once, didn’t allow her worries to intrude.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Elsa woke early enough to beat the servants to the library, as promised. The sky was just greying outside the window. The maids were aware of her early morning habits, so she rang for one and ordered a bath be drawn. Still remembering Anna’s words, she found a full-length muslin blue dress and accompanying tailored jacket that was better suited for business meetings than dances. The jacket, which Elsa had worn before, was oddly reminiscent of her evening tailcoat now, though with a considerably shorter hemline, but she imagined Anna might enjoy the mix of masculine and feminine. Elsa liked the practicality of it.

 

“My choice,” Elsa murmured to herself. It felt a little odd to have choices, especially after a year trying to arrange anything even tangentially related to Anna to her wife’s preference, or what Elsa remembered of her preferences. After bathing and dressing, Elsa glared down at her gloves. The memory of Anna’s ministrations hadn’t dimmed in any way. At least she hadn’t had a dream about it, so maybe she could be thankful for small mercies. She would just have to put up with it and hope she could learn to ignore the inappropriate memories. She left for the library.

 

The castle was quiet as a tomb with most of the staff gone and those remaining just starting to stir. She imagined the main ballroom was still something of a mess after the night’s party, and would be slowly cleaned up as the staff returned.

 

The lighting in the library wasn’t much better, especially with the sun just barely out. Elsa even lit a candle and searched, but could not find the ribbon.

 

Good lord, where could Anna have tossed it? It couldn’t have landed far from the chess board. And of course, thinking of their chess game brought back more uncomfortable feelings. Elsa even dragged the board table away to look underneath and found nothing.

 

“Your majesty?”

 

Elsa’s head slammed into the underside of the table. “Mother of god,” the queen yelped, clutching the back of her wounded head.

 

Gerda was standing by an armchair and looking deeply amused. “I’m not that old, your majesty,” she said.

 

Elsa shot the housekeeper a glare as she got to her feet, rubbing at the sore spot on her skull.

 

“Looking for something?” Gerda inquired. “I cannot imagine why you’d be crawling about on your knees in the library of all places the day after your wedding.” A brow climbed. “And shouldn’t you be in bed with your wife at this hour, your morning habits notwithstanding?”

 

Elsa ignored the question and prodded at her injury. It was probably going to bruise.

 

Gerda gave her a knowing look whose meaning Elsa did not want to contemplate. “What are you doing in the library?”

 

Goddamn it, Elsa was the queen and she still felt like she was half her current age and height and just caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to when Gerda looked at her like that. “Obeying my wife’s wishes,” Elsa evaded. “And no, I do not need your help.” It was clear dismissal.

 

Undeterred, the housekeeper pursed her lips, then reached into the pocket of her apron.

 

Elsa immediately wanted to sink through the floor.

 

A green ribbon dangled tauntingly from Gerda’s hand. “So you weren’t looking for this?” Gerda said with only the barest trace of humor. Like it would have mattered, Gerda might as well have been laughing up and down the halls and Elsa wouldn’t have been any less mortified.

 

“For—Anna, that is—” Elsa stuttered.

 

“Yes, obeying your wife’s wishes.” Gerda was enjoying this far too much, Elsa thought helplessly, her face flaming. Had it been anyone else, Elsa would have been entirely composed and made up some flimsy excuse that would have had to be taken at face value by virtue of her station alone, but it was Gerda. The woman who’d watched her grow from the day she was born to the current ignominious moment. 

 

“I was curious about what the princess consort’s hair ribbon was doing underneath the chess board when I came by this morning,” Gerda continued, a wicked smile on her face. “It certainly couldn’t have been anything… inappropriate, could it?”

 

Elsa didn’t answer—she truly did not trust herself to say anything that wouldn’t engender more amusement at her expense. She simply snatched the ribbon away from Gerda’s outstretched hand and stuffed it into a pocket. God. It was far too early for this. Why was Gerda even up? It felt like the universe was conspiring to make her life more difficult. Her formerly neat and ordered existence was being undermined by gloves and a lost ribbon. She didn't subscribe to the notion of karma and past lives, but perhaps it was a sign that she ought to start doing so. Clearly she’d done something horrible in a past life to deserve these humiliations. Maybe she could offer up gifts as penance and kindly request to be left alone.

 

“Not a word to anyone,” Elsa growled, even though they both knew Gerda was the soul of employer discretion. There really could be no one better to find the evidence of a potentially embarrassing dalliance, but still.

 

Gerda aimed a placid look at her, folding her hands over her lap like some long-suffering saint—the picture of demure obedience, ruined by the way Gerda's lips trembled ever so slightly to hold back her laughter.

 

They were also both aware that Elsa looked patently foolish and deserved to be mocked, so Elsa gathered up the tattered remains of her dignity and retreated to her study, a metaphorical white flag trailing after her.

 

* * *

 

Anna was notably absent for breakfast an hour after Elsa’s utter defeat at Gerda’s hands, but King Frederick and Queen Alice were present. King Frederick looked somewhat half-asleep while Queen Alice was sipping at her tea.

 

“Good morning,” Elsa said as she entered. Breakfast was being served in one of the smaller, more private dining rooms reserved for the immediate royal family. As Elsa went to the head of the table, her eyes touched upon King Frederick, who didn’t notice her attention.

 

Elsa’s jaw tightened.

 

She was going to have words with her new father-in-law regarding the marriage contract.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is deeply appreciated. Emphasis on constructive. 
> 
> We are finally beyond the wedding day! Thanks for everybody who hung in there with me. Thanks go out to my beta reader, Owncksd, for her work on this chapter (writing Elsa's perspective of what happened last chapter was kind of awful and also kind of awful to proofread with all those past tenses). Also, this is slightly revised copy with some less italics.


	9. Chapter 9

“You look well rested,” Queen Alice commented.

 

“No wedding jokes, please,” Elsa said, anticipating a thinly veiled ribald jest from her mother-in-law. She was certainly not going to tell either of her in-laws that she and Anna had spent the night in separate rooms. Or even if they hadn't, Elsa still would have been tight-lipped about it. With Elsa’s nod, footmen began to serve breakfast.

 

Frederick made vaguely pained sound. “Especially not about that, Alice,” he said hoarsely. He looked like he was nursing a hangover and attempting to hide it.

 

Alice peered at her husband. “You look a bit peaky, dear,” she said. Her tone was bland, but there was an undercurrent of… something. Whatever it was, it made Frederick blanch and reach for his cup of coffee.

 

Elsa frowned as she regarded Alice and Frederick. They were seated across from each other with Elsa at the head of the table. She had to shift her eyes back and forth to observe them and did exactly that in faint confusion.

 

“Did you overindulge last night?” Alice asked her husband.

 

Frederick swallowed his coffee in great gulps that likely scorched as it went down. “No more than anyone else,” the king evaded. Frederick sounded… apprehensive, Elsa realized. What was going on? Elsa was by no means an expert on marital relations, but she’d never seen Frederick and Alice acting thus.

 

“Well, given how most of the guests left in some kind of inebriated state or another…” Alice continued in the same mild voice. “Shall I have a tonic made, dear?”

 

Frederick coughed as a footman refilled his cup with more steaming coffee. “No need,” he croaked. “I’m just… weary. From the revelries.” The king was saved from saying more when Anna came into the room in a hurried dash.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m late!” Anna said. A footman dodged out of her path as Anna went to her place to Elsa’s right. Her wife was dressed appealingly in a form fitting ivory day dress of fine wool with light green trim around the waist and bodice. Her hair was tied back in the same way Elsa’s had been during the party, the copper a flowing banner behind her. Elsa realized she was unconsciously smiling at Anna as the younger woman drew closer.

 

Instead of taking her seat by Elsa, however, Anna stopped at Elsa’s elbow and leaned down in a single smooth motion, as though it was something they’d done daily. Elsa’s eyes widened as she realized what Anna was doing.

 

Anna was going to kiss her right in front of her parents.

 

Soft lips pressed chastely against Elsa’s own. Elsa could do nothing but hold very still—she did not quite trust herself to act in whatever way Anna expected her to. The queen could heat rising up her neck as well as Alice and Frederick’s eyes on them. She didn’t dare look their way.

 

Then Anna pulled back just slightly and leaned back in toward Elsa’s ear.

 

“Play along,” Anna whispered. The younger woman straightened and smiled at Elsa.

 

“Good morning,” Anna said in an voice that was just a tad too bright. She was putting on a show and Elsa had just been conscripted to perform with her.

 

The queen cleared her throat discreetly and returned the greeting with a benign smile of her own.

 

“Good morning.” She imagined Anna wanted them to look like besotted newlyweds. Elsa thought she ought to be convincing; the queen didn't have to feign it, though Anna looked a little deranged  with her mouth smiling too wide like that. If that smile was supposed to look loving or however happy wives were supposed to smile, then Elsa hoped Anna had no aspirations for theater.

 

“You may want to sit, dear,” Alice said. “The food’s getting cold.”

 

“Oh, right,” Anna said. She skirted around Elsa’s chair and allowed a footman to pull her chair back to seat her.

 

“Coffee?” Elsa asked, still avoiding looking at her in-laws.

 

Anna’s nose wrinkled. “No, thank you. I don’t know how you can drink yours black. Tea, please.” A maid stationed by the serving bar approached with a teapot and poured. Anna stirred milk and sugar into her tea and sipped.

 

“You look lovely today,” Elsa told her wife. The comment was sincere and not for show. 

 

Anna smiled back and, after a surreptitious glance at her parents, returned, “You look very nice today, too.” A gleam entered Anna’s eye. “And in a dress. It suits you.”

 

“Someone told me I look good in both feminine and masculine clothes,” Elsa said lightly. “I wanted to diversify.”

 

“I’m sure that someone would be pleased that you took their words to heart,” Anna grinned. It was a genuine grin, and one that did not make people want to shift their eyes about for the nearest exit. Elsa smiled back because whenever Anna looked that happy, she couldn’t help but mirror the sentiment. Then she realized they were both smiling stupidly at each other as plates laden with smoked salmon, cheese and eggs were being served.

 

Elsa turned to her food to distract herself. “Bread?”

 

Anna began to cut up her salmon and nodded. “Please.”

 

Elsa passed the plate over and glanced at Frederick and Alice. Alice had turned her attention to her own plate and Frederick appeared to be trying not to gag over the scent of eggs. Neither were paying much mind to Elsa or Anna, so the queen said, very quietly, “How was your sleep?”

 

“Lonely,” was Anna’s immediate, equally subdued reply. Anna paused to look Elsa dead in the eye. “I would have slept better if a certain someone was there.”

 

She should have expected an answer like that, but Elsa’s hand still froze mid-motion for the briefest moment. Elsa considered the first response that came to her, which was to admonish Anna and retreat into propriety, and that was when she hit upon a moment of pure clarity—what did it matter? They were married. Anna was in good spirits and wanted to appear happy for her parents. And it was just idle, though somewhat inappropriate, conversation, which was also something Elsa had not engaged in in a long time with anyone aside from servants or subjects. She had often taken meals alone in her study unless there was some guest or other she had to entertain, which had been very rare.

 

Elsa decided she would humor Anna.

 

“There would not have been much sleeping, then, if you had company,” Elsa said, her face guileless. “Unless you intended to rise after midday.”

 

Anna stared at her, jaw unhinged. She had obviously not expected Elsa’s verbal volley.

 

Elsa wanted to laugh and ate a forkful of egg instead. By then, Anna had recovered and was chewing on a bit of flatbread with a thoughtful expression.

 

“If I may,” Anna started.

 

“Yes?”

 

The younger woman put down her flatbread and leaned her cheek into her palm, her attention rapt on Elsa. “I think I may be… uneducated in these matters. Perhaps you could describe what would have prevented an early rise from bed?”

 

It was Elsa’s turn for her jaw to drop. She quickly glanced over at her in-laws again and saw neither Frederick nor Alice were paying them any attention at all; Frederick was gingerly eating a piece of salmon and Alice was engrossed in a newspaper. Their exchange so had far been conducted in hushed tones, but were they really going to do this? Over breakfast? And in the same room and seated at the same table as Anna’s _parents_?

 

If Anna’s smug, triumphant look was any indication, then yes, they were going to have an innuendo-laden conversation, and if Elsa did not respond, then Anna would be the de facto winner. And Elsa hadn’t ever been able to turn down a challenge from Anna, her competitive nature stirring.

 

“Well, as you would know given your fondness for horseback riding, vigorous activity can cause one to oversleep,” Elsa stated matter-of-factly, as though she was reading a passage from a book. “I’m sure that the matter of which you spoke of would need to be… very vigorous,” she finished, voice lingering over the last phrase. She hoped it sounded as suggestive as she thought, even though Elsa had no experience in the kind of vigorous activity they were speaking of. And then that thought led to her wondering if Anna really would need that kind of… performance.

 

A faint blush settled over Anna’s cheeks at her words. Anna’s lids lowered and a pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips. Elsa stared at it in mute fascination.

 

“As you said, I do like riding,” Anna replied slowly. “And I think I am very fit. It would have to be _exceptionally_ vigorous for me to oversleep, don’t you think?”

 

Elsa’s hands tightened around her fork and knife as Anna’s meaning sank in. They were flirting. Oh, god, they were _flirting_ with each other. Elsa had never flirted with anyone in her life. And more shockingly, she was finding the exercise inexplicably enjoyable.

 

“I would concur,” Elsa finally managed. “But you seem to be expecting a partner of equal physical ability to… achieve the intended effect.”

 

“Well, a skilled rider can wring quite a bit more spirit out of a fit mount,” Anna smirked.

 

Oh, god. How was she supposed to respond to _that_? Elsa managed to control her blush, but just barely. “I might suggest more… open-mindedness. In that regard, that is.” Elsa hoped, anyway.

 

“Oh?” Anna’s smirk became wicked. “Please elaborate on this. Would it be a matter of skill, then?”

 

Elsa nearly groaned. What had she gotten herself into? They were heading into dangerous waters and Elsa wasn’t sure if she wanted to steer them back to safety. Or if she even could—Anna seemed determined on continuing on their current trajectory.

 

“Perhaps experience as well?” Anna offered.

 

“One would presume,” Elsa acceded. “I was brought up to believe that mastery can always be further honed by more… practice.” But _how_? Elsa wondered. She was saying things and uncertain how true they were; she wondered if that sort of thing could be practiced, like with dancing.

 

They were entirely engrossed in each other and did not notice eyes watching them curiously.

 

“What do you think they’re whispering about?” Alice asked her husband.

 

Frederick’s headache had not improved with food and coffee. He’d also burned his mouth earlier on the coffee, so not only were his temples pounding, but he could not eat anything without wanting to whimper for mercy. The king glanced at his daughter and daughter-in-law.

 

Anna’s lids were hooded and she was looking at Elsa with what appeared to be a secretive smile. It was not dissimilar to the expression Frederick had seen the previous evening when they’d danced together—somewhat dreamy and distracted, though there was a hint of playfulness, too. Elsa was more composed in comparison, but Frederick thought her attention was entirely focused on her wife to the point that he doubted Elsa would react if he called to her.

 

He didn’t think anything was particularly amiss and shrugged. “They were just wed yesterday. Perhaps wedding jokes.” Frederick was finding it difficult to use his brain at the moment, so that was the best he could do.

 

Newspaper rustled as Alice turned a page. “Perhaps. They do appear quite suited, don’t you think? Even if they only just wed.”

 

Frederick didn’t think he could manage conversation, but he didn’t want Alice to think he needed that accursed tonic either. “Very well. They’ll be happy together.”

 

“A good match,” Alice agreed absentmindedly. “For both of them. I admit that I hadn’t imagined it when Alexander had first offered, but now…” She glanced again at the pair in question. “Well, I cannot see them more suitably matched with anyone else, now.” Alice pursed her lips. “I do wonder what had made Alexander suggest it, though.”

 

Frederick looked at the two again, their heads bent together—red and blonde contrasting, but matched well, just as Alice had said. He’d been just as surprised, if not more, as his wife had been when his old friend had offered Elsa to Anna. Not that Elsa wasn’t worthy of his daughter, it was just that, well, she was _female_. Frederick hadn’t been able to countenance the idea and had initially turned the offer down, though it was probably more from surprise than anything else.

 

But Alexander had been exceptionally persuasive and forceful. He’d been so determined for Elsa to have Anna, pursuing the matter with such unflagging persistence that Frederick wasn’t sure if he’d given in out of exasperation or if it’d been Alice who’d eventually brought him along to the idea.

 

Despite his earlier resistance, Frederick did not regret allowing the marriage. He knew Elsa would take care of Anna, and do so earnestly. Not like those fool lordlings who’d courted Anna so haphazardly, flouting the betrothal in the safety of sheer distance between the two kingdoms after Alexander’s death, and acting under the belief that the engagement was some kind of lark, for what king would allow his daughter to wed another woman? Even if the other party was exceptional in every way, from lineage to wealth and reputation, the then-Princess Elsa was a _woman_. Had Elsa been a man the match would have made every kind of sense, and those hungry hounds wouldn’t have dared even look at Anna in any way but excruciatingly proper.

 

Frederick could only be thankful that Elsa had never found out about the untoward attention, as much as he’d tried to discourage it, for Elsa was very much her father’s daughter. Frederick could see shadows of Alexander in her and, most tellingly, his temper. It was a common trait in Arendelle rulers, probably to do with all the power their gold afforded them as well as the accompanying arrogance, but a terrifying thing to behold when given the chance to show itself. Those suitors who’d tried to court Anna and presumed Elsa would not react in the similar manner as her father because she was a woman would have been very wrong; Frederick knew Elsa would not have tolerated such an affront, no matter how youthful and untested she was.

 

Making an enemy of Arendelle meant annihilation in one form or another—most prayed that it was immediate, like a duel or challenge, because the long term kind could cast the pall of an entire house’s ruin over the coming years, leaving its members to wonder when the guillotine would fall. Sometimes the threat of that alone was enough to have the offending member ostracized by his own family in an attempt to ward away chance of retaliation. Alexander would not have been above meting out that particular brand of vengeance. When he was alive, Alexander had been fiercely protective of his family and so very proud, like a golden lion. He’d been entirely unashamed that his heir would be a queen and not a king, and had taken measures to ensure that Elsa’s claim to the throne would be undisputed.

 

While Alexander had never outright abused his power, previous Arendelle rulers had not possessed the same scruples—Frederick maintained to this day that it’d been Marina who’d tempered her husband before he’d been given the opportunity to… act less honorably than he should, no matter how deserving the offense. Though Alexander’s restraint would have been especially tested when it involved unflattering words toward Elsa and her engagement to Anna—Frederick could not imagine how Alexander could have contained righteous fury unless stories of retribution had been kept from Frederick’s ears.

 

Nonetheless, the betrothal had been fulfilled and Frederick would no longer have to contend with contemptible heiress hunters chasing his daughter about. It would be Elsa’s duty to protect Anna now.

 

“I don’t know, either,” Frederick finally replied. “But I’m glad we allowed it.”

 

* * *

 

 

At the moment, though, Elsa didn’t feel like she was much of a match for Anna. Her wife was proving to be as adept at verbal fencing as she was at riding. Obviously Anna had more experience with this kind of sparring than Elsa, and Anna was not displaying any kind of leniency despite her disadvantage. And Anna had claimed she wasn’t good with words only the night before—clearly a ruse to trick her into lowering her guard, Elsa imagined.

 

“I think the only way to confirm these assumptions would be to perform field experiments,” Anna proclaimed.

 

“Do inform me how you intend to conduct these experiments with our current living arrangements,” Elsa retorted.

 

Anna’s smile turned coy. “Well, if I am remembering correctly, you’d simply go from the King’s chambers, through the Queen’s chambers—”

 

“More like the Queen’s personal village. I may need a map to find you.”

 

“You have your ancestors to thank for that. Or did you want me to find you?”

 

Elsa flushed. The thought of Anna coming to find her was far too alluring, so she decided against responding to it. “I’d probably die of exhaustion if I ever got lost in there,” she said instead.

 

Anna laughed. “Is your form that poor, Elsa?”

 

Elsa rolled her eyes. “I ride desks, not destriers.” Literal meaning aside, Elsa really did nothing that could even laughingly be called physical activity. If Anna’s skill lay in the reins and bridle, then Elsa’s was the pen and ledger.

 

Her wife grinned. “Arendelle’s stables hardly has any war horses, unless you’ve made some new additions.”

 

Well, now was a good a time as any to bring that up. “I have, actually.”

 

Anna’s expression lit with interest—the subject of horses always did. “Oh?”

 

“It’s not quite up to the standard of Corona’s, but the stables have been renovated. I’ve bought a few new horses as well.” Elsa glanced away briefly, nerves suddenly overtaking her. “Consider it a wedding gift.” It actually _was_ a wedding gift, but Elsa didn’t want to invoke obligatory gratefulness where it might not be deserved; forced nonchalance seemed best to resolve that issue.

 

Anna’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh,” she breathed. “How—how many did you buy?”

 

“About two dozen thoroughbreds. Arendelle doesn’t really have an established presence in horses like Corona, but I thought you might like them for, well, breeding stock. Several have sired proven racers and I’m told there’s quite a few who are excellent for, well, anything you wish to do.” After several moments of silence, Elsa searched Anna’s face anxiously. “Do you… not like that?”

 

“What? No, no, that’s not it,” Anna answered. She blinked rapidly. “Elsa,” she finally said. “I know we’re doing this courtship idea of yours, but I have to tell you that I really want to kiss you. Right now.”

 

Elsa’s eyes flicked to Frederick and Alice even as her body leapt in response to Anna's words. Anna liked it. Elsa had done something right and Anna liked it. “Your parents—”

 

“Then you’d best make your excuses if you don’t want me to kiss you right in front of my parents,” Anna warned, her eyes gleaming with purpose.

 

Elsa swallowed. Anna was serious. They had flirted, but it was her mention of horses as Anna’s wedding gift that had pleased her. Elsa felt her mouth go dry at the way Anna was looking at her and she knew she needed to leave the room immediately because Anna would follow through with her threat, audience or not. And she imagined that kind of kiss would not be the polite kind from earlier.

 

The queen rose unsteadily. Frederick and Alice looked at her, then pointedly down at Elsa’s half-finished plate. “I’ll be…” Where was she supposed to be? She couldn’t even remember if she had a schedule or meetings for the day. That hit to the head in the library earlier had addled her, Elsa decided. “In my study,” she finally finished, albeit weakly. She didn’t dare look at Anna, whose shoulders were quivering faintly with suppressed laughter.

 

Well, she was just a fount of entertainment today. Elsa wondered if she’d have any shred of dignity left by the end of it.

 

She retreated once again, her metaphorical white flag probably looking worse for wear.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna wanted to follow Elsa, but her parents were there and bolting after the queen didn’t look good for anyone.

 

But they were _married_ , came the thought. They were allowed to do… whatever they liked. _Within reason._ Anna wondered if Elsa had coined that stupid phrase and if she’d been inadvertently quoting the queen in her own thoughts. It sounded exactly like the kind of thing Elsa, sensible and logical Elsa, would say.

 

Except it hadn’t been sensible and logical Elsa who’d just been _flirting_ with her, and over breakfast, no less. All those innuendos and repartees—Anna had positively delighted in them. Anna wasn’t as skilled as some other ladies she was acquainted with in Corona, but interacting with Elsa seemed to coax out the witticisms like moths to flame.

 

In spite of what she’d said, though, Anna had actually slept well. The previous day had been exhausting and she’d slept deeply, which had in turn made her late for breakfast. Seeing Elsa seated with her platinum hair in her customary bun and that lovely blue dress and jacket had made her hasty flight to the dining room (Anna had gotten lost on the way down and had to hail a footman to direct her) worth it, though. It hadn’t occurred to her until she’d already arrived that her parents, especially her mother, might expect certain… behaviors. And she didn’t want them to pry, least of all about her own marriage. Planting a kiss on a remarkably obliging Elsa had also made that little show worth it.

 

And then Elsa had told her about the horses and the stables and Anna knew, even though Elsa had said it offhandedly, that it wasn’t a small matter. Elsa had put a great deal of thought into it, even if Elsa couldn’t tell a hackney from an Arabian; it was the gesture itself that had made Anna’s breath catch. Anna had realized in that moment in spite of Elsa’s insistence on distance, Elsa _cared_. The queen wanted Anna to be happy and had done things that she thought would make Anna happy.

 

Buying enough clothes to outfit every person between Arendelle and Corona, cleaning up the royal stables, and acquiring enough horses to start an entirely new breed… these were not things _friends_ did, no matter how confusing Elsa behaved. And Anna couldn’t forget about all those kisses, even if she wanted to.

 

Whatever Elsa said, Anna knew beyond any kind of doubt that what Elsa felt wasn’t platonic in any light. Elsa was hiding something from Anna for some reason—Anna couldn’t fathom what was going on in that brain of hers, but Elsa had probably made it far more complicated than it actually was. And Anna was going to pry it out of her one way or another, the obstinate mule.

 

Fired by resolve, Anna stood with her chair scraping noisily behind her. A footman scrambled to help pull the chair back, but she was already up and looking down the table.

 

Her father winced at the clatter and her mother didn’t even look surprised.

 

“I’m done,” Anna said without preamble. Actually, she didn’t even care if she’d waited an appropriate amount of time to go chasing after Elsa. Monarchs didn’t have to answer to anyone as she’d so often reminded Elsa, who in turn also liked to remind Anna that the princess consort only answered to the queen.

 

“Shall we expect you for lunch, then?” Her mother asked.

 

Anna blinked. “I just had breakfast.”

 

“Yes, but you have that look on your face that means I probably won’t be seeing you for several hours,” was the dry response.

 

Did she? Anna frowned. “Probably. Maybe.” She thought of Elsa’s stubbornness. “No, don’t wait for us.”

 

“Give Elsa our regards,” her mother said blandly.

 

Anna nodded absently, already on her way out.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsa wasn’t entirely sure what she was going actually do in her study, only that she’d said she would be there. She told herself she was not going there just in the off chance that Anna follow to carry out her promise.

 

“Your majesty.” Kai approached as she came to the bottom of the stairs. “A message came for you.” The butler had an envelope in hand.

 

“Oh?” Elsa took the envelope and studied the ornate script on the front. _Her Majesty, Queen Elsa,_ it read. She hadn’t expected any messages. “From?”

 

“I’m afraid the courier didn’t say.”

 

The handwriting was feminine and the stationary of high quality and heavy. As Elsa broke the unrecognizable wax seal on the back, her nose wrinkled when she caught a whiff of cloying rose-scented perfume—definitely from a woman. She glanced through the letter.

 

_For Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa—_

_Much felicitations again on your nuptials. I’m sure you’ll recall my compliments to your wife. I do hope you also remember your offer for our engagement after the lovely ceremony. I certainly remember how attentive you were as we danced last night. I look forward to speaking with you again over our shared interests._

_Peut-être pourrions nous faire connaissance?_

_Ever yours,_

_Charlotte, Comtesse de Artois_

Elsa’s eyebrow twitched. Paper crinkled beneath her fingers. The _audacity_ of that woman. She’d purposely worded everything in a flirtatious manner. And the last sentence had suggested that Elsa and the countess could be further acquainted, except the word she’d used, “ _connaissance,_ ” literally meant acquaintance and euphemistically meant “mistress.” Elsa’s stance on social abstinence was only growing stronger if this was the kind of attention she would have to contend with. She wondered how her father had dealt with things like this.

 

“Kai!” Elsa barked. The butler hadn’t budged since she’d started reading, but he still snapped to attention at her tone.

 

“Your majesty?”

 

“Send word to Holsen and Calhoun for a meeting tomorrow morning,” Elsa growled, referring to the attorneys the royal family retained. “Set an appointment for ten o’clock.” She glared down at the letter as though it was multi-legged and venomous. “Is that courier still here?”

 

Kai shook his head. “No, your majesty. He made no mentions of needing a reply.”

 

So the countess hadn’t expected a meeting today. Elsa stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “If another letter comes, inform me at once. And tell Holsen to gather anything he has on Artois and Collier Company. British railroads,” Elsa added for context.

 

Kai’s eyes widened. Like every servant at the party, he’d heard of what happened between the French countess and the queen. “Yes, right away, your majesty.”

 

“And not a word to Anna,” Elsa said. She didn’t want Anna stopping her, and certainly not after the hurt the countess had inflicted on Anna during the party. Elsa wanted to set fire to the letter—it’d probably make a colorful flame with the liberal perfume application that’d gone into it, but she knew she ought to save it for the appointment with Holsen and Calhoun tomorrow. They would dig up whatever there was to find on the countess and then Elsa would _crush_ her into dust.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna got lost again trying to find Elsa’s study. The castle apparently had multiple studies reserved for the current monarch and finding the one Elsa used required Kai’s help. She’d happened to pass the butler while he was walking down the hall with uncharacteristic haste and he’d pointed her to where Elsa would likely be.

 

When Anna finally found Elsa’s study, she gave a perfunctory knock and opened the door.

 

“Elsa?”

 

The study was surprisingly small unlike the rest of the castle, but handsomely appointed. A dark red Aubusson rug was spread out to cover most of the floor and a large gleaming mahogany desk sat on top with a pair of chairs before it. Bookshelves brimming with leather tomes lined the walls and sunlight poured in through the uncovered windows behind the desk. Two settees faced each other in an unoccupied corner with a low table between them. It was cozy—all gleaming wood and dark colors, quite masculine and business-like, in fact, but radiating warmth. 

 

But Elsa was not present. Anna pouted. She was certain she’d correctly memorized the directions Kai had given her. Standing there would do no good, and the room did look like it was frequently used—Anna could see a neat stack of parchment on the desk and fresh firewood by the fireplace. It even looked recently dusted.

 

Curiosity got the better of her; Anna told herself that Elsa had promised she could watch the queen work and perhaps Elsa would not mind if she just looked around. Even though the study felt cozy, Anna still didn’t quite feel that she belonged there. She was jumpy and nervous, as though someone might come in at any moment and shoo her away. Which was nonsense because Elsa had said she could at least _watch_. How could Anna watch without being in the same room?

 

With forced casualness that felt like she was trying to convince herself, Anna wandered to the bookshelves to examine its contents. Some of the titles were in English, but far more were in other languages, including Latin. And some didn’t even have any titles at all, which was when Anna realized they weren’t literature; they were ledgers. She’d just started to reach out to touch one when she heard approaching footsteps. And they were close, close enough that when Anna spun away guiltily, Elsa was already striding into the room, head bent over a piece of paper that looked suspiciously like a card in her gloved hand and muttering to herself.

“Going to find this—Anna?” Elsa stopped short in surprise. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t know you were in here.”

 

Anna shrugged awkwardly, her hands tucked behind her back as though Elsa might see red painted upon them. “I was, ah, looking for you. I finished breakfast and, um. Kai told me you’d be here.”

 

“Oh. I was actually in my room—” Elsa cut herself off and walked to the desk. “I was just getting something.” She opened a drawer, dropped whatever was in her hand in, and shut it. “I have a business appointment tomorrow. I was just… getting prepared for it.”

 

"Oh." Elsa sounded unwilling to elaborate and Anna tried not to let that sting.

 

"It’s just a meeting with my attorneys," Elsa added. She was watching Anna closely and had seen something despite Anna’s attempt to conceal. "It’s not for a matter of great importance." Elsa hesitated, and then sat down on one of the two chairs in front of her. She nudged the empty chair with a foot and motioned for Anna to sit. Anna obeyed and they faced each other as equals.

 

"Are you going to give me a lesson in business right now?" Anna asked with a small smile. The mood felt a little tense in spite of the fact that Elsa was sitting in front of her instead of at the position of power behind the desk.

 

Elsa folded her hands in her lap and appeared very serious. "No. Not this very instant." She regarded Anna intently. "Is that what you want? Lessons in business affairs?"

 

Anna exhaled. "I—I’m not sure," she admitted, surprised at her own honesty. She had not expected to talk about this when she’d walked into Elsa’s study. "But I’ve spent most of my life being told that it’s not my place to have anything to do with… important things."

 

"Who told you this?" Elsa asked after a long pause, her face inscrutable. Her voice was deceptively soft. Anna would later wonder how she could have missed it.

 

"No one in particular." Anna fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. She was starting to feel foolish for talking about this, and especially with Elsa, of all people. She’d never said anything to anyone before, even when she and Elsa had seen more of each other when they were younger. And Anna wasn’t even sure when these feelings had started to crop up; they just felt like they had always been there.

 

Elsa’s gaze focused hard on Anna. Anna was suddenly struck at how much Elsa resembled Uncle Alexander at that moment; she had her mother’s aristocratic face and beauty, but her father’s expressions and mannerisms. It was discomfiting to watch Elsa’s familiar face harden almost imperceptibly, her eyes turning into chipped ice, her jaw sharpening like a drawn blade.

 

God, Elsa was patently frightening at the moment, like she was ready to take someone’s head off. Anna hoped it wasn’t going to be hers—Anna had never seen her look that way before, except perhaps a bit like last night when she had been going on about the countess, but it hadn’t been aimed at Anna then. It seemed like there were many sides to Elsa that Anna had never encountered before. The younger woman shifted uneasily in her seat under Elsa’s eyes, feeling quite small and young.

 

"Are you sure no one has made you feel this way?" Elsa’s voice was low again, but there was a rough note in it didn’t elicit pleasant feelings at all; it was like the rasp of reptile scales sliding over rock, dangerous and foreboding. Her countenance and tone seemed to compel the truth out of Anna, forcing the words out of her in a clumsy jumble.

 

"I’m sure," Anna started. She wondered if this was what Elsa looked like when she was in the midst of business negotiations, those glaring eyes enforcing her will and demands. "It’s just that, well, you know, I wouldn’t be ruling anything when I came of age, not like you or Kristoff, and I’m only good for, you know, marrying—"

 

"That is not true," Elsa snapped, cutting her off.

 

Anna clamped her mouth shut immediately and stared down at her lap. The back of her neck and ears were burning, her hands clenched into fists on her knees. Her heart was beating an uneven tempo in her chest, quick and afraid. She could hear Elsa breathe in deeply, as though the queen was reaching for control.

 

"Anna, look at me."

 

Reluctantly, Anna raised her chin and looked warily.

 

"Your worth is not in who you marry," Elsa said, her face severe. "You are not—you are not _cattle_. You are more than just someone’s wife."

 

“Am I, Elsa?” They were both surprised with her answer. Finding her courage, Anna pressed on. “I’ve always expected to marry. _We_ have always expected to marry. But you were taught to rule, while I was… I was…” She bit her lip.

 

Elsa scowled. “Say it.”

 

“I was taught to be _ornamental_. To attract a husband and make entertaining conversation and be pretty and _useless_.”

 

The words hung heavy between them, solid as a door.

 

“Do your parents know about this?” Elsa finally asked. Her jaw had relaxed somewhat and she didn’t look so murderous anymore, to Anna’s relief. 

 

“Of course not, Elsa,” Anna sighed. “I’ve never told anyone. And please don’t tell them. It’s my duty, just like any other daughter of nobility.” She glanced at Elsa. “Except maybe you.”

 

“I took the same etiquette lessons as you did.”

 

“Yes, but no one expected you to work to attract a husband. Or be subservient to one.” Anna actually hadn’t considered if Elsa would be if she’d married a man, but the thought was absurd. Elsa being forced to answer to someone else, beholden to some faceless lord? Anna could not imagine it at all.The notion was akin to politely petitioning an ominously smoking volcano to not flatten your village. Asking wouldn’t be enough—something on the scale of fervent prayers, grand temples and human sacrifices, perhaps. And it’d probably still blow up, anyway. 

 

Point being, Elsa had always been expected to rule as the single absolute power in Arendelle and not share it with anyone. Anna knew Uncle Alexander had groomed Elsa specifically to lead, so there’d never been any question of who would be in charge once he passed away.

 

“Is that what you think, Anna? That you are… subservient to me?” Elsa asked, quietly.

 

“You did say you were my liege,” Anna said lightly, hoping to alleviate the tension. Or maybe hide behind humor. She wasn’t sure.

 

“That was—I didn’t mean it like that,” Elsa muttered, her jaw tensing again. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No, that was a joke, Elsa. Maybe a bad one, but I didn’t mean it that way, either.” Anna meant that sincerely. Elsa had never looked down on her, even when Anna sometimes felt the queen had every reason to.

 

Elsa fell silent again, brow knitted and lips a tight line. “Anna, what you said about what you were taught… It isn’t untrue,” she began. “I won’t insult you by claiming otherwise. Most ladies are expected to marry into other noble families, and are reared exactly for that purpose. But don’t ever think that you are nothing more than that. You are—I don’t think you are that. We may have had different expectations when we were younger, but it’s different now. You don't—you don't have to allow that to define you."

 

Anna shrugged half-heartedly. “I suppose. I mean, I’ve already achieved what I was raised to do, right?” That had come out more bitter than she’d intended.

 

Elsa flinched. “I didn’t know you thought that way of marriage.”

 

Anna started in surprise. “No! No, that’s not—not what I meant. I’m glad that I married you, I am. I was referring to just being _groomed_ for it and not expecting to—to amount to anything more than that.” She tried to smile and managed it, barely. It hurt to say the words out loud, to hear it in her own shaky voice, and to say it to Elsa, most of all. She’d forgotten how much she valued Elsa’s opinion. Anna’s eyes landed on her lap again; she didn’t want to see Elsa’s thoughts written on the queen's face.

 

At the top of her peripheral sight, the queen’s hands clenched, then relaxed. One gloved hand crossed the gulf between them and settled over Anna’s tightly clasped ones.

 

“Perhaps now isn’t the best time to talk about… this,” Elsa finished delicately, her voice soft. “I think I know a thing or two about expectations.” _And amounting to enough_ , was what Elsa didn’t say, but they both knew. “And I think… I think we should revisit this, but at a more appropriate time. I’m sorry for my… reaction. I don’t approve of anyone disparaging you, even if it’s coming from you. You said earlier that you were looking for me,” Elsa prompted.

 

God, she’d come in here wanting to kiss Elsa over horses and drag out whatever was on Elsa’s mind, and they’d somehow ended up like this with Anna whining and Elsa offering her comfort like she was some lost puppy. She still couldn’t make herself meet Elsa’s eyes.

 

“Your silence has an exceptionally guilty air to it,” Elsa remarked. “Should I expect Kai to come flying in here about another ruined suit of armor? And possibly involving a pony?”

 

That got her attention and had Anna’s chin snapping up indignantly. “Elsa, you _promised_ you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

 

She was expecting laughter, but Elsa was only smiling at her. Her expression had turned considerably softer and looked nothing like Uncle Alexander anymore; at the moment, Elsa looked much closer to Aunt Marina, sweet and kind. 

 

“Admiring Joan of Arc to the point of emulation isn’t anything to be ashamed of,” Elsa said. “She was a remarkable figure.” Well, sweet and kind and _teasing_.

 

“Ahh, Elsa, _stop it_ ,” Anna hissed, cheeks heating. “That was a long time ago! Gerda nearly took the skin off my bottom for that stunt, right after Papa tanned it raw for her!” And a grievous offense it’d been for Gerda to have taken a hand to a then-nine year-old Anna.

 

“Well, at least you and Kristoff shared the blame,” Elsa continued placidly. “I was punished as well, if you’ll remember.” Elsa paused for dramatic effect while Anna’s face burned brighter. "It was quite the performance, especially the broomstick lances and barrel lid shields." Her tone oozed with irony

 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, all right? In hindsight, it was stupid—”

 

“You nearly ran Kristoff through,” Elsa interrupted.

 

“I know!” Anna cried. “It was an accident and I felt really bad about it, all right? But Kristoff thought it’d be fun, too! And you had _agreed_ to be the referee and herald!”

 

Elsa’s brow did an impressive hike. “Your recollection of the event is flawed,” she informed her wife. “I remember being locked in there with you and Kristoff precisely so I couldn’t fetch someone to stop you two. I was an unwilling participant.”

 

Anna honestly couldn’t be sure if that’d been the case, but it did sound like something she and Kristoff would have done, so Anna didn’t dispute her version. As a child, Elsa had acted long-suffering and stoically resigned to being dragged along on whatever adventures bored children could foment. Elsa hadn’t always been like that, though; she’d only acted like, well, an adult when the ideas involved were exceptionally ill-advised.

 

Such as trying to reenact the Hundred Years’ War as a jousting tourney with Anna as Joan of Arc to represent the French, and Kristoff as King Henry for the English. Two suits of armor had been sacrificed to give the makeshift tourney a more authentic air (to Elsa’s protests, because those suits were partly the reason why her ancestors had lived long enough to make more Arendelles and allow Elsa to exist at all. Did those suits _really_ have to be used for such an inglorious purpose?). Elsa’s points that Joan of Arc had never participated in a tourney, much less learned to tilt, had fallen on deaf ears.

 

By some miracle, Anna had managed to smuggle in a pair of ponies, but with only bridles and no saddles. They’d soon discovered that the breastplates were far heavier than they looked and both had needed Elsa to help them mount. Then Anna and Kristoff had spent a good five minutes yelling obscenities at each other they’d heard from the stable hands to imitate the historical animosity between the French and English, complete with accents, but that’d mostly been for the childish thrill of saying forbidden words. Elsa had been wide-eyed and aghast at the flying profanities until they’d made her fish out a handkerchief and wave it as a starting flag, as though they were competing for Elsa’s favor.

 

The instant they’d kicked their mounts into motion, the oversized helms on their heads had begun to swing to and fro wildly. Elsa had told her afterward that she’d managed to bypass Kristoff’s shield and nearly bayoneted him with her broomstick while the older princess had looked on in slack-jawed disbelief at the farce unfolding before her.

 

The real damage, though, was when she and Kristoff had unhorsed each other by accident and landed in separate bone-rattling piles on the floor. The noise had echoed loudly throughout the empty ballroom, and alerted probably every person in the castle. Luckily, the ponies hadn't trampled them in fright and they had gotten away with nothing but sore backs and bruises. They’d all gotten severely punished for the episode; she and Kristoff had obviously deserved it more, but Elsa had borne hers without complaint. To this day, Anna still felt guilty for getting her in trouble.

 

“Watching you fall off that pony scared a few years off my life,” Elsa commented. “And probably everybody else, what with the noise you two made.” She shook her head at the recollection.

 

Elsa didn't say it, but the breath had simply left her body at the sight of Anna landing so dangerously close to her pony’s hooves; Anna could have _died_ , or at least been seriously hurt. She could still remember the way her heart had simply stopped in her chest and everything had slowed to a near standstill in her panic. Elsa had nearly blasted the pony away with her powers, but couldn't out of fear that it’d only frighten the beast and endanger Anna. She had never experienced such intense terror and helplessness before. Her punishment was well-deserved for not considering the danger beforehand and, privately, Elsa still blamed herself for having allowed it to happen in the first place.

 

“Not every single idea I had as a child was brilliant, I know,” Anna agreed regretfully.

 

“Do you feel better, though?” Elsa asked, smiling slightly.

 

Anna breathed out. The memory had distracted her and she did feel lighter. Anna gave her a wry smile. “You always seem to know how to take my mind off things.”

 

“And I would say the sentiment is mutual,” Elsa replied. Her hand lingered over Anna’s, the touch light and warm. “Would you like to go riding today? Maybe inspect the new horses and see if they’re up to your lofty standards?”

 

Anna released a surprised laugh, relieved. "Only if you go riding with me." And then she loosened her hands to twine them with Elsa's and felt very happy at that moment. This was the Elsa she remembered, though she knew that Elsa had been right the previous night—they _had_ changed. They weren’t children anymore, but she wanted to know everything about the changed Elsa she’d married. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all the readers who've been following this story. This chapter is exceptionally fat at just under 7600 words, so my apologies if it felt interminably long; that's because it actually is interminably long. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> I'd like to thank Chibikrys for her help with the French from chapter 5 and this chapter to make it sound more natural. This chapter is also unbeta'd, but I wanted to get it out as I'd promised to have it posted by today. I will update it with a revised copy once it has been looked over.
> 
> For anyone wondering, "Peut-être pourrions nous faire connaissance?" literally means "Perhaps we can be acquainted?" but has a very suggestive connotation. I am not sure if I conveyed that well in this chapter, so I wanted to clear that up in case it wasn't.


	10. Chapter 10

“You’ll have to change into riding breeches, by the way,” Anna said matter-of-factly. “If we’re going out for a proper ride, it won’t be with sidesaddles.”

 

“I thought you liked me in dresses.” Elsa said with a smile. “And now you want me out of them.”

 

Anna’s lips curved. “I can help you get out of them,” she murmured, her tone suggestive.

 

Elsa almost blushed. “Anna,” she chided. The flirting from breakfast was coming back to mind.  Well, it was better than thinking about what they’d just been speaking of. 

_Ornamental. Useless. Unimportant._

Even recounting those ugly words made her chest constrict with fury. It was an implacable anger, the kind that consumed reason and demanded immediate retribution. To hear Anna say such things about herself when she meant so much to Elsa… She’d never felt so impotent before, so utterly incapable of defending what she valued most. What good was she if what hurt Anna was something as intangible as family duty? Elsa could not change that.

 

It was benighted times they lived in when even a princess like Anna could feel stifled by her station and circumstance, Elsa thought sourly. Even more so when the sum of a woman’s worth could be distilled down into how many male heirs she could birth and the value of her family’s name. Elsa had been lucky that her father had treated her the same as he would have a son.

 

Dwelling on it, though, was not the best course of action at the moment. She would make good on her word to revisit the matter, however.

 

“We’ll change in separate rooms,” Elsa said firmly, forcing lightness into her voice. “I’ll wear the breeches and wait outside your room, all right?”

 

Anna laughed, and Elsa was relieved that it sounded genuine. Anna's mind was off the earlier part of their conversation. “All right, all right. Oh, I told my mother to not expect us for lunch. How about a picnic as well? We can have lunch outside.”

 

With a mild start and the last fragments of her anger retreating, Elsa realized that a picnic was another thing she hadn’t done in a long time, along with riding. The suggestion wasn’t objectionable, but all the cascading realizations regarding things she hadn’t done in the past few years was rather distressing and not a little embarrassing. Elsa had hardly ever left the castle, always too preoccupied with work or some other pressing matter. And now she sounded boring and stodgy, like she wasn’t a woman of twenty-one, but someone’s eccentric spinster aunt who locked herself in her room and refused enjoyment of any kind.

 

They were married. _She_ was married. And she couldn’t very well carry on as she had been—Anna would want her time and attention and, apparently, kisses as well…

 

Elsa wanted to give all of that to her.

 

She smiled and nodded. “A picnic sounds lovely. I’ll have Gerda prepare something for us.”

 

Anna grinned and shifted forward to sit on the edge of her chair to be closer to Elsa, her hands still holding the queen’s. “The weather looked nice from my window this morning. And I did actually come in here for a reason, in case you were wondering.”

 

“Oh? Well, we can talk about it during the ride, if you want.” Elsa stood and helped Anna to her feet. “Your wardrobe should have something suitable for riding.”

 

“You even had breeches made for me?” Anna asked with a skeptical turn of her brow.

 

“I am fairly certain you spent as much time in dresses as you did breeches when we were younger,” Elsa said. “I presumed your preferences have not changed.” Though the tailors had certainly given her strange looks when she’d requested men’s riding clothes designed for a woman. An impassive gaze with a mild rejoinder that she was paying them to work, not to question, had solved that.

 

Anna took Elsa’s hand in hers as they started out of the study. The gesture was done with such easy familiarity that Elsa’s heart thrummed in pleasure, especially when Anna’s arm pressed against hers. Perhaps not so familiar—as children, Elsa hadn’t really felt the desire to kiss Anna so much. She had just enjoyed being with Anna then. And now Elsa was finding herself wanting to _show_ Anna how she felt. That urge was getting harder to control, lust-crazed animal that she evidently was.

 

At the same time, though, these feelings were so new. But Anna seemed to reciprocate them and even want to explore them with Elsa. _Field experiments_ , Elsa remembered Anna call them from breakfast. God. Like they were scientists. Elsa hadn't ever wanted to partake in experiments so much before.

 

“Your assumption would be right,” Anna said. Elsa's study was not far from their rooms, so their pace was unhurried. “Though my mother did wish I’d spent more time in dresses instead of being outside.” Alice did not share her daughter and husband’s enthusiasm for all things that had four legs and neighed.

 

Elsa glanced at Anna. She didn’t think that comment was a reference to Anna’s duty or expectations.

 

“Are you asking if I prefer you in masculine clothes?” She asked, carefully neutral.

 

Anna’s head swiveled to stare at her in surprise. “What? No, that was just a… I don’t know, a remark. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Anna blinked at her a few times and began to chew on her lip.

 

“Do _you_ prefer me in masculine clothes?” Anna asked tentatively after a long pause.

 

It was obvious the thought had never occurred to Anna; it hadn’t occurred to Elsa either, but she still considered it for a moment. “I don’t know,” Elsa answered truthfully. “I think I’d like you in either dresses or breeches, though I admit that it’d be rather awkward if we both showed up to a ball in men’s clothes—”

 

Anna let out a surprised laugh. “I have never attended a ball or party in men’s clothes, so you can rest assured that _that_ will not happen,” Anna chortled, tickled at the thought.

 

"No? What if I said I wanted you to go as a man?" Elsa challenged, tongue tucked firmly in cheek.

 

That thought had not occurred to Anna either, and it left her speechless. Anna's mouth opened and closed a few times, enough that Elsa wondered if she was actually trying to speak, but the words were refusing to come out. Elsa was deriving too much amusement at Anna’s discomfiture and it was an heroic effort to hold it in.

 

“I—I suppose I’d do it,” Anna stuttered, cheeks pinking. Anna’s eyes had gone wide, like she couldn’t believe what she was saying and had no choice but to continue. “I mean, it’s only fair since you—you did it and…” She trailed off. Elsa was laughing too hard for her to finish.

 

“Elsa!” Anna exclaimed. “You’re teasing me again!” She let go of Elsa’s hand to whip her palm solidly against the queen’s arm. Elsa continued to laugh while her wife glared at her, Anna’s lips twitching unwillingly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said once she had regained her composure.

 

“No, you’re not,” Anna said peevishly. “You enjoyed that too much to be. Really, me in a suit at a party,” she shook her head like she was trying to rid herself of the image.

 

It was true—Elsa wasn’t all that sorry, but she was for finding mirth at Anna’s expense. “I’m sorry for laughing at you, then,” Elsa amended. “But, as you said, it’s only fair.” She didn’t need to point out that Anna had teased her a great deal last night as well.

 

“I suppose,” she huffed. She smiled wryly. “I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a long time, so I suppose some good came out of it.”

 

Elsa’s lips parted in surprise. Anna was right—she _hadn’t_ laughed like that in a long time. Actually, she hadn’t laughed much at all lately, the prior day notwithstanding. Elsa shouldn’t have been surprised that it would be Anna to who would return that part of her life after so many years. It probably came from Anna being her only friend, aside from Kristoff, for so long, but Anna could always just make Elsa… feel.

 

“I’d have done it.” Anna was purposely looking straight ahead and not at the queen.

 

Elsa’s eyebrows lifted at the admission. “Would you have?”

 

“If you really wanted me to. And it would only be fair, like I said.” Anna looked askance at her. “You wouldn’t show up dressed as a man, too, would you? Because that really _would_ be strange.”

 

A smile tugged at Elsa’s lips. “As opposed to both of us in dresses?”

 

Anna blinked. “Well, when you put it that way…” Anna blew out a breath, but she was smiling, too. “I can’t quite see us both dressed as men and dancing together, it’s just so odd.”

 

“And you can if we were in dresses?”

 

“It’s still hard to imagine,” Anna admitted. “But yes, I think I’d prefer one or both of us in a dress if we were at a party. Lovely as you look in a suit.”

 

“I had no idea you were so vain,” Elsa teased gently.

 

“I am not vain! I was just stating a preference!” Anna retorted, indignant.

 

They came to the King’s chambers. “I’ll be mindful of that, then,” Elsa said with a slight smile. “I’ll be sure to warn you if I’ve decided I’d like you in boots and pants and expect you at my door to escort me to the party on your arm.”

 

She was awarded with an exaggerated eye roll. “Well, don’t forget the breeches today, then. I’ll be in them, too,” Anna called over her shoulder as she walked off.

 

Elsa wondered if she actually would prefer Anna in pants, then shook her head at herself. The turn her thoughts were taking lately—it was just clothes and Elsa was hardly affected by capricious fashions. She went into her room to change.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsa arrived at Anna’s door dressed in white buckskin breeches, knee-high black riding boots and a tailored black jacket. If Anna’s comment on the weather was anything to go by, as well as Anna’s preference for gallops to sedate walks, Elsa had dressed lightly. She would likely have to shed the jacket sometime during the course of their outing and had already sent word to Gerda to prepare some kind of packed lunch.

 

As Elsa waited, hands clothed in leather riding gloves and tucked under her elbows, she contemplated what kind of reaction Anna would have to the horses. Elsa’s knowledge of horse quality was limited except from what she could remember Anna telling her, which was not much. To Elsa, horses all looked alike aside from obvious differences like color. And gender. And if it was alive or dead. And that impressively short list constituted the entirety of Elsa’s equine expertise.

 

Elsa had tried to engage in Anna’s interest for the animals years ago, but the effort had been fruitless. She just could not see the magic in them as Anna did. She found them necessary for travel, plowing what little farmland the kingdom possessed, and hauling heavy objects like carriages and wagons. They could also be contrary things—an old pony of Elsa’s had found joy in trying to bite her for sport, though Anna had claimed that that habit was borne out of boredom—and they required a great deal of upkeep. Obviously there was more to them than that because Anna continually said so, but the queen was ignorant to whatever that was.

 

Still, if Anna cherished them, then Elsa would accommodate her. Though if Anna asked her to learn more about them, Elsa didn’t think she could feign the interest convincingly.

 

Anna’s door opened and she stepped out. Elsa’s sight, which had been aimed somewhere near the bottom half of the door, was immediately filled by shapely thighs. Elsa was unprepared for it. Completely unprepared. It was rather like being ambushed.

 

Anna had flawless legs, was Elsa’s very first coherent thought. Not that Elsa had a standard for comparison, but if she were asked to imagine perfect legs, she would have chosen Anna's. Her attention was completely arrested by the way those tan breeches hugged Anna’s thighs. No, hugged was not adequate—Elsa was tempted to ask if a maid had stitched Anna into those breeches.

 

“Well?” Elsa distantly heard Anna ask. Her eyes were still on Anna’s lower half, so she couldn’t confirm if Anna had actually spoken. The query sounded like it may have been prompting for a comment, but Elsa couldn’t tear her eyes away. Or speak. Or think. She simply stood there and worshipped those thighs with her gaze.

 

Elsa was certain she’d seen Anna’s legs in breeches hundreds of times before, but never like this. Never like… like Anna wasn’t wearing anything at all. She might as well not have been with her legs outlined so clearly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination because it was all _there_. Freely available for viewing. Her brain had the gall to recollect at that moment how those thighs had straddled her the very night before.

 

Her hands were clenched and her collar was warm and her silence was stretching into abject rudeness. Elsa had to say something.

 

 _I want to trace every inch of your thighs with my mouth and hands_.

 

Not that! _Especially_ not that. Choking, cheeks flaming, Elsa yanked her chin up and fixed her eyes blindly on Anna’s face. She would not speak to Anna’s legs. That was very rude and she had excellent manners. Elsa thought she might be on the verge of hysterics.

 

“Nice,” she said in a strangled voice. “You look very… nice.” She had no idea what the rest of Anna looked like; Elsa didn’t dare try to find out, but she imagined Anna did look very nice, so it wasn’t a terrible lie.

 

Anna was attired in similar clothes as the queen—black riding boots, a simple white shirt and a burgundy jacket that complimented her hair. Anna had noticed that a great deal of her closet complimented her coloring and wondered just how much time Elsa had invested in her wardrobe choices aside from the cost. The tan buckskin breeches she found were a tad bit tight, but the leather was new and would stretch with use.

 

When Anna had emerged to find Elsa finely dressed with her pale hair still in a bun and looking beautiful as ever, she had been struck by a sudden bout of self-consciousness. Anna had never worn fine men’s clothes back in Corona. Most of her clothes had been Kristoff’s old castoffs, which had always been a bit too large, and she had never ridden in breeches with polite company in tow, such as Hans; it would have scandalized everybody within their social circle to see the princess dressed in her brother’s old clothes.

 

Thus, nobody but her family and the castle staff even knew that she could ride horses astride, much less that Anna preferred it to sidesaddles. Well, them and Elsa, too. Anna had always ridden horses the way she wanted in front of Elsa.

 

As Anna had awkwardly stood there awaiting Elsa’s judgment, hoping she did not look silly, Elsa had seemed incapable of looking at Anna in the face. The queen’s eyes had not moved at all from where she’d been gazing when Anna had first opened the door and stepped out. And Elsa hadn’t said anything for the longest, tensest stretch of time that Anna had ever had to endure, even when Anna could no longer stand it and broken the silence with an anxious “Well?”

 

At least that had made Elsa eventually look up, but Anna had doubted Elsa could actually see her. The queen’s blue eyes had been unfocused and she’d also been blinking too much, like she was staring through fog.

 

“You look very nice,” had been Elsa’s stilted response.

 

Anna tried not to wilt at that. It sounded so stiff and canned, like it’d come from a reserve of platitudes for when truth did not warrant any socially acceptable reply. Then she noticed that Elsa’s cheeks were pink and she was avoiding looking below Anna’s neck. Anna had seen herself in the mirror. She didn’t think she looked _that_ bad. Elsa was acting strange again.

 

Suspicion made Anna narrow her eyes. “Elsa, what color is my jacket?”

 

Elsa’s eyes did not stray anywhere down. In fact, the queen seemed to aim her gaze even higher to somewhere above Anna’s head, like she was addressing Anna’s bedroom door. After a long pause, Elsa said, unconvincingly, “Red.”

 

Anna wondered if she was guessing or hoping.

 

“Name the shade, please,” Anna said, giving Elsa a skeptical look. She even folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. 

 

“I have no idea,” Elsa finally admitted. How on earth could Anna expect her to know? Granted, if Elsa did look then she would be able to name the shade since she’d picked it out herself, but she _couldn’t_ look because Anna’s thighs would edge closer into her sight and Elsa could already feel her eyes wanting to drag downward, like a compass needle. And clearly a broken one; compasses were supposed to point north, like she was currently trying to do. 

 

“Because you don’t know the color or you won’t look?”

 

Anna was on to her and they both knew it.

 

“Elsa, it’s all right if you think I don’t look good in men’s clothes. You don’t have to lie to me.” Anna paused. “Though I suppose if I’m so offensive to your eyes, you don’t have to strain your neck looking up at the ceiling. I can go change into a riding habit, you know,” she added sardonically.

 

God, it was just like before the party: Elsa had somehow made Anna think she found her hideous. She needed to stop it. “It’s not that,” Elsa forced out. “It’s…” She made a vague gesture to Anna’s knees. “Those breeches.” There. She’d finally said it.

 

Anna looked down and could detect an odd stain or missing button anywhere. “What’s wrong with them? Is the color off-putting or something?”

 

Elsa made the mistake of glancing at them to confirm if the color actually was an issue because she certainly hadn’t been paying any attention to the hue earlier. Her eyes lingered over them again, her cheeks betraying her. “Too tight,” Elsa yelped like a kicked dog. “They’re too damned tight!”

 

Anna blinked, then comprehension settled in. Her lips curved into a pleased, wicked smile that made Elsa’s spine tingle ominously. “I see,” she said slowly. “The issue is that you like them too much, then.”

 

 _Yes_ , Elsa wanted to expel, she did like them too much. It was unholy how much she liked them. Though, if she was honest, it was more that she liked what they showed, not the breeches themselves. She’d never seen Anna’s legs, or any other woman’s, like that before and the shock of it had bowled her over with the suddenness and violence of a horse’s kick. But Elsa knew that it was really the fact that it was _Anna’s_ legs that had her attention.

 

Her face burned brighter. It was mortifying, Anna’s effect on her. Was this how teenage boys felt at the sight of a pretty girl? She suddenly sympathized with Kristoff if this was what he had to go through when he was growing up.

 

Anna took two steps toward Elsa. The sight of those legs in motion made Elsa want to shake. She could hear the buckskin leather stretching, pulling at the stitches to accommodate movement.

 

Elsa retreated two steps.

 

Anna was still smiling wickedly. She didn’t look annoyed at Elsa’s retreat. “Elsa,” Anna called out softly, as though she was a skittish animal. “It’s all right to admire me. Most people would be happy to be so attracted to their spouses.”

 

She had nothing to say to that. No response came to mind, except for maybe, _you’re too beautiful_. Elsa could take stock of the rest of Anna, though, and found her just as enticing in her riding clothes as a dress. Elsa had the sneaking suspicion that she’d find Anna lovely in anything she wore, which could probably include potato sacks.

 

“It… pleases me that you find me so irresistible.” There was real humor in there now. The younger woman gave her a speculative look. “Though I do wonder how long you’ve felt this way.”

 

Well, Elsa knew the answer to that. It’d started a year ago when she’d last been in Corona and had seen a woman walk outside instead of a girl. Of course, she could not tell Anna that because Anna hadn’t known she was there. And that was just the physical attraction.

 

When Anna saw that Elsa was not going to tell her a word, she changed tactics. “These breeches are rather form-fitting. Where on earth did you get my measurements? The only fitting I went to was for my wedding dress.”

 

Elsa exhaled. She could answer that much. “Your mother,” she muttered. “I asked her for them.”

 

Anna tilted her head, curious. “And had men’s riding clothes made as well.”

 

“Yes,” Elsa affirmed. “I thought you might like your own instead of Kristoff’s old ones.”

 

Both of Anna’s brows rose in surprise. Elsa had known that she’d never had her own. Anna had never complained of it—she’d never even minded that she got her brother’s castoffs, worn and old as they had been. It wasn’t as though anyone important was going to see her in them.

 

“So, it’s your fault that these breeches are too tight.”

 

Elsa’s eyes whipped up to meet hers. “I gave those tailors the correct information,” she said defensively.

 

“They’re leather,” Anna continued, as though Elsa hadn’t spoken. “And they’ll stretch.”

 

The queen gave her a wary look. “You like them, then?”

 

“I do.” Anna smirked. “Maybe not as much as you do, though.”

 

Elsa reddened and glared at her, but did not reply. 

 

“I feel that I should thank you properly,” Anna said, and strode to Elsa. The queen jumped, startled, and immediately withdrew until her back hit the wall. Elsa swallowed, her eyes drinking in the sight of Anna’s legs in motion. Riding would have made Anna’s thighs strong and they did look very… fit. Like the rest of Anna. Which Elsa had not seen and, if she continued to have her way, she would not see. But the look on Anna’s face begged to differ.

 

Her wife seized Elsa by the lapels. Elsa finally understood Anna’s comment about them now, but the realization was fleeting as Anna’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

 

“Elsa, why do you always try to escape me when I want to thank you?” Anna smirked. “I think if I was a lesser woman, it’d hurt my feelings.” And then Elsa was pulled down for a hard kiss. Elsa didn’t have any fight in her—the splendor of Anna’s legs had thoroughly destroyed all of it. And good god, Anna was bold, her tongue licking over Elsa’s lower lip to demand entry, and then swept into her mouth when Elsa granted it. Elsa was drawn into a kiss that had her knees shaking and her hands grasping Anna’s hips for support as much as the desire to touch. When Anna nipped at her lip, Elsa groaned, surprising both of them apart at the undercurrent of want in that desperate sound.

 

Anna looked at her, lips wet and eyes hot, breathing uneven. They simply gazed at each other. Then Anna’s hands slid from the lapels, up her chest to cup either side of Elsa’s throat, thumbs tracing her jaw. Elsa’s breath hitched at the touch, her pulse pounding under Anna’s palm.

 

“Come with me into my room,” Anna whispered. Her meaning was unmistakable.

 

Her breath exploded out on an exhale. Elsa wanted to. She wanted very badly to go with Anna and… conduct field experiments. But they couldn’t. She still hadn’t spoken to Anna’s father, still hadn’t told Anna about the amended contract. And Anna saw it on her face, but at least she knew it was not from lack of interest. Anna kissed her again, softer, and it tasted achingly of her disappointment, but there was comfort in it as well—Anna understood somehow. She was allowing Elsa to deny them this and the queen was humbled for it.

 

“That was what I wanted to do earlier, when I came to your study,” Anna murmured once they parted again, but her hands were still on Elsa. “For a lovely… breakfast. And the horses. Which you told me to ‘consider’ as a wedding gift.”

 

Elsa had been caught—Anna knew. She wanted to fidget under Anna’s eyes, face held between Anna’s hands, in abashment. 

 

“And you will tell me what’s on your mind,” Anna continued, voice firm. “Maybe not now, but soon, Elsa. I don’t like it when things are kept from me.”

 

Elsa closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. Of course Anna would know that, too. Elsa evidently had the transparency of glass. She nodded her assent. “I will.”

 

Anna finally withdrew her hands, resting them on Elsa’s shoulders. Elsa was still holding her by the hips. Anna leaned into Elsa, stepping just a little closer between Elsa’s boots, her mouth pressed to the queen’s pulse. “It would be so good, you know,” Anna whispered against her skin. 

 

Elsa shuddered, her eyes sliding shut at the feel of Anna’s warm breath washing over her throat. She was rooted in place, her body awash with heat. Her limbs refused to obey her. Anna’s front was pressed to hers, her breasts, her hips, everything. Elsa could feel it all.

 

“We can’t,” Elsa managed to gasp. “You—you just said—”

 

“I know you won’t… let us,” Anna continued, her lips nuzzling the galloping beat in Elsa’s neck and the same taut tendon that Elsa had tasted on Anna just last night. “Last night, you said we would be conducting a courtship. But courtship is about _persuasion_ , isn’t it?”

 

The queen almost whimpered. Her hands flexed around Anna’s hips, palms rubbing against those breeches. She was wholly at Anna’s mercy. The entire castle staff could have come charging in and she wouldn’t have budged an inch. She could only stand there and suffer while Anna… did whatever she wanted. It was a good thing the wall was at her back because Elsa didn’t think her legs were of any use at the moment.

 

“Almost like… polite seduction. Flowers, long walks, chaperoned rides.” Anna buried her nose into Elsa’s neck and found the pale skin there delightfully soft. She watched Elsa’s throat bob as the queen swallowed. “It’s so chaste. But only because nobody’s married yet.” Anna laughed softly, feeling powerful. Elsa was on the verge of breaking, but Anna was not cruel. She would concede this particular battle for the sake of the war. 

 

Perhaps Elsa’s chess lesson was sinking in—this _did_ feel a bit like strategy. And knights were not all-powerful like queens, but they were wiley things with the way they could leap over defenses and entrap. She did like that analogy—it was so elegant for their situation, except Anna thought she could actually _win_ this time. Lovely as chess was for a metaphor, they were human, not game pieces.

 

And no matter what Elsa was up to, Anna was not going to allow Elsa to move them about like they were pawns and sacrifices for a passionless victory. She was not… _cattle_ , as Elsa had put it. Anna was learning from Elsa, and if Elsa’s words from their talk were to be believed, Anna was more than a pretty prize. She deserved respect. She was Elsa’s _wife_ , damn it, and she wanted to make it real. And Anna _knew_ she herself would not regret it.

 

Anna also wanted to understand what it was that was keeping Elsa holding her at arm’s length, like she was some kind of unwanted vice that the queen kept shamefully returning to. It was obvious that both of them wanted to go further, and if Elsa truly wanted to take their relationship slowly, then fine, Anna could understand that, but there was more. There was something else that was making Elsa act this way and Anna had the distinct feeling that she needed to know what it was. She was determined to pry it out of Elsa.

 

And that determination to act and exercise her newfound knowledge had been started when she’d witnessed the expression of burning hunger on Elsa’s face when the queen had looked upon her apparently fine legs. It had just been so gratifying to see such a look aimed at her after that talk in the study. And that had simply made her forget every feeling of superfluousness she’d ever harbored, like a cool balm on an inflamed wound. Anna knew, though, that physical desire was not the same, but it had still done wonders for her admittedly fragile ego. And Anna was planning on taking full advantage of that.

 

“And we are married and I can do this. I could kiss you just like this and a servant could show up and there’d be no scandal. Maybe a lot of gossip, though.” Anna breathed in deeply, savoring Elsa’s scent and her quivering silence.

 

She knew Elsa wasn’t immune. No, in fact, Elsa was _too_ aware of her. She was just stubborn, but Anna possessed a reserve of patience to call upon when the endeavor was worth it. She normally used it for training difficult horses, ones that’d rather see her head dashed into the ground than tolerate her presence within ten paces of them, but she thought it could be useful for persuading recalcitrant royalty. And Elsa certainly did not want to dash her head anywhere, so half the battle was won, wasn’t it?

 

“So, I’m going to ‘court’ you, Elsa,” Anna said with a confident smirk. “I’m going to… politely seduce you. And I’m going to do my best to drag you into bed, even if it means getting you there kicking and screaming, because we both know it would be _so good._ ” Her voice caressed those last two words like a silken promise. “And _neither_ of us will regret it.”

 

Elsa had never heard a threat sound so erotic in her life. She was also intensely aware of how painfully wet she was. It almost distracted her from the fact that Anna had just effectively issued an ultimatum to Elsa: get her affairs in order before Anna seduced her or Elsa’s enforced abstinence would all be for nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, they made it to the stables.

 

Elsa had no idea how Anna expected her to be capable of any kind of rational thought or activity after what had just happened outside Anna’s room, but Elsa still followed her wife, aleit dazedly. Much like a horse on a lead—she simply had no choice but to walk.

 

Her wife was a force of nature, Elsa decided as Anna gazed up at the renovated stables in stark admiration. Elsa had never seen her like this, this determined focus. And the fact that it was aimed for the purpose of getting them into bed concerned Elsa deeply.

 

She was not going to win. She knew it well. Elsa could see an imminent rout on the horizon, the same way she could see it on a chessboard. Anna was thwarting all of her efforts. Elsa had intended to deploy a slow, delaying campaign the night before with the courtship idea, but Anna had thrown that back in her face and exploited her weakness with such surgical precision that even Elsa had to admire the cunning.

 

Anna had realized that she needn’t do or agree to anything Elsa said.

 

Liege indeed, Elsa thought with a flash of irony. She’d shot herself in the foot. Anna had taken Elsa’s words to heart in her study. Elsa ought to be regretting that Anna had learned so quickly with the way the day was going so far. And it wasn’t even lunch yet.

 

Anna had forced her hand, laid siege and Elsa had no idea what to do next.

 

This was not how it was supposed to be. Things were spinning out of her control and Elsa could practically see her father shaking his head at her in her mind. She had never been able to beat him at chess, but she could occasionally force draws. That was the most one could do when victory was simply out of reach: not quite win, but not quite lose either. Her father would not have approved; victory was the only acceptable outcome. Fight for victory, even if it seems impossible, he had used to say to her.

 

Elsa breathed out and attempted to collect her wits. She would need to speak with Frederick first, perhaps even this evening. Then she could need to tell Anna about the amended contract, preferably before Anna broke through what little of her defenses that remained. And these events would need to occur very soon.

 

How had Elsa stopped Anna from having her way last night? Where in the hell had Elsa’s _caution_ gone?

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa could see copper hair flutter and catch gently in the morning breeze, like an invading army’s standard. Was that… a blue ribbon that Anna had used to secure her hair? Elsa squinted and confirmed that it was. Anna had kept Elsa’s blue hair ribbon from last night and was using it. Elsa had forgotten that Anna had never given it back to her.

 

It was just as affecting, if not more, as seeing Anna under Elsa’s coat. Anna was wearing something that was distinctly Elsa’s and it did all sorts of things to the queen. Her belly flipped and her heart squeezed pleasantly. Anna could make her feel an entire host of emotions, and do so effortlessly. And then Elsa realized where all her sense had gone—her wife had ground it into dust while Elsa had looked on and had not been able to do a thing about it.

 

Anna gave Elsa a heated sidelong look that set her skin tingling. “The stables are beautiful,” she said. “And I want to inspect the horses. Join me.”

 

It was phrased like a request, but it was a command. Elsa’s legs moved automatically, placing her next to Anna. The positioning was calculated; Elsa could at least manage that. She could not see Anna’s thighs this way and further cripple herself for the rest of the day.

 

 _It would be so good_.

 

Elsa didn’t even know _how_ it would be good. But it would, she was certain of that solely because Anna had said it would be. The way her voice had purred those words out, how her tongue had rolled over each syllable luxuriously, infusing such decadence and sin into the sentence, like rich chocolate. It lingered in her senses, that promise—her mouth still tasted of Anna, her palms still burned from the feel of Anna’s hips upon them, and she could still detect Anna’s scent in her clothes. And, of course, she could still hear Anna’s voice sliding over her, the sound as palpable as lips feathering over skin. As for sight, well, Elsa had been too busy with her eyes closed shut to block out the world. She knew very well what Anna looked like, and couldn’t have seen her anyway since Anna had been busy tormenting Elsa’s neck with happy abandon. 

 

Elsa shook. She was amazed that she could even stand. She wanted to take off her jacket; she felt too warm, even in the mild weather.

 

She followed Anna into the stables, meek and mute. Elsa was the _queen_ , the highest power in the land, and she was trailing her wife’s heels like an obedient pet. Elsa couldn’t find it in herself to even feel embarrassed.

 

* * *

 

 

The stables were immense. Each stall gleamed with newly varnished wood. The floors were freshly swept and the air smelled of fresh straw, horses and leather. Grooms were scattered throughout the interior, busy at work or leading horses about. A perfunctory glance told Anna there was enough room for at least thirty horses, including the two dozen Elsa had bought.

 

Anna breathed in the scent happily. It smelled just like the stables back home in Corona. Well, Arendelle was her new home now, and these stables were hers. She knew Elsa had absolutely no interest in horses—Elsa was more like Anna’s female acquaintances in that way. If it was possible, Elsa would have preferred to have nothing to do with the animals, so the fact that she’d gone through the trouble to fix the place up and buy several fortunes’ worth in horseflesh meant all the more to Anna.

 

She glanced at Elsa and had to fight to keep her smile off her face. Elsa was stone-faced, her eyes glazed over and her cheeks still faintly flushed. And if Elsa kept looking like that, she would terrify some unfortunate passing servant into thinking that that forbidding expression was meant for them.

 

Anna was tempted to kiss Elsa again and make her look a bit more friendly, but she didn’t think Elsa would appreciate her doing so in front of onlookers. One groom next to a stall noticed them, turned back to work, then immediately whipped his head back to stare. His jaw dropped and he snapped to attention. “Your majesties!” He stuttered, bowing too deeply.

 

A ripple went through the building as other grooms realized that their mistresses were among them. With astonishing haste and order, every groom inside and out gathered before Anna and Elsa, the head groom at the front of the group. Anna did not recognize him from her previous visits and presumed he was newly hired. 

 

He bowed the correct way. “Your majesty, your highness,” he said. Anna knew by the way he addressed them that he had likely served in another noble house, possibly a royal one.

 

“Anna, this is the head groom, O’Brien,” Elsa said, referring to the head groom by his surname. The queen looked more composed as she addressed the grooms, donning royal authority as easily as she did gloves, her eyes cool and focused. “He assisted in the horse purchases and oversees the stable operations. O’Brien, my wife, Anna. You will answer to her.” There was a certain ringing finality in her tone that had every groom present standing up a bit straighter, including O’Brien.

 

While Elsa continued talking to the grooms, Anna decided to refer to that tone as Elsa’s “obedience or obliteration” voice. The voice wasn’t haughty, but it was very… compelling. Almost domineering. And she was finding some of Elsa’s autocratic tendencies to be disturbingly attractive. She did enjoy watching Elsa command the small army of large men to do whatever Anna wished, no matter how arbitrary.

 

“Was there anything you wanted to add?” Elsa asked her.

 

“I think you covered everything, Elsa,” Anna said, amused. Once Elsa had dismissed everybody but O’Brien, Anna said in a voice that only Elsa could hear, “I think they’d have given up their firstborn if you’d demanded it.”

 

Elsa looked at her like Anna had actually demanded firstborns. “Why would I do that?”

 

Anna laughed. “Just the way you spoke to them. I’ve never seen so many men staring in wide-eyed terror at a woman.”

 

Elsa frowned. “I spoke appropriately as I would anyone in my employ,” she said. “I outlined my expectations of their behavior in your presence, who they will answer to, as well as—”

 

Anna smiled lazily at her. “I’m going to kiss you if you don’t stop that right now.”

 

Elsa immediately shut her mouth, the words cut off as effectively as a swung cleaver. She scowled at Anna, but it was ruined by her pink blush. 

 

“I enjoy watching you order people about,” Anna said. “You’re a perfect tyrant and, god help me, I like it.” She turned to the waiting O’Brien before Elsa could answer. “It’s so nice to meet you, O’Brien. Could you give us a tour? I’d love to see the new horses.”

 

Elsa allowed Anna to walk slightly ahead with O’Brien. She tuned most of the conversation out except for Anna’s reactions, which seemed largely happy. Elsa breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. She had delegated the selections to O’Brien and was glad that Anna appeared to agree with his choices. His current salary certainly cost enough—Elsa had had to lure him away from a prestigious breeding stable with the promise of exorbitant pay and mostly free rein to do what he wished with the new horses, provided that Anna approved of them. If his reputation and expertise was to be trusted, then she didn’t think O’Brien would clash with Anna, but she was prepared to find a new head groom if that was the case.

 

At the end of the tour, O’Brien took his leave and they were alone again. Elsa and Anna stood outside the stall of a fine-boned chestnut Arabian mare with white blazes on all four legs and a streak down the center of its head to its nose. Anna approached the animal with her characteristic ease and the mare responded to her soothing voice, bumping its head against Anna’s chest.

 

“Well, hello there,” Anna murmured, blowing softly into its nostrils. Elsa knew it was one of those things that Anna said would help a rider bond with a mount. The queen, on the other hand, had no inclination to put her hands or face anywhere near a horse’s mouth.

 

“O’Brien didn’t say much about this one,” Anna said.

 

Elsa cleared her throat. “He didn’t choose that one.”

 

Anna smiled. No, she didn’t think he had. The mare was exceptionally pretty, its red coat gleaming even inside without sunlight. O’Brien had a preference for larger horses, and this one was just a bit smaller than the others, nor the right breed that the head groom preferred. The mare had stood out to Anna like a burr among the stable of champions and fine pedigrees. Anna had known the instant she laid eyes on the Arabian that Elsa had chosen it.

 

“Tell me about her,” Anna said.

 

“An Italian breeder brought her here about six months ago,” Elsa began. “He owned a small stable and I believe he came wanting to find new stock here and had brought a few of his own to trade and sell. I was out in the city meeting with a diplomat and she caught my eye.” That was the general gist of the story, with some details omitted. She had been out in the city at the time and had felt harried between unavoidable diplomatic meetings and numerous wedding details. As Elsa had been stepping out of her carriage, she’d glimpsed a brilliant flash that had stopped her heart. It’d been exactly the right shade of copper in the right light. Elsa had promptly forgotten her scheduled meeting to search the crowded square to find it, leaving her guards to scramble after her. 

 

The Italian breeder had told her details about the mare, how well-suited its gait was to rocky hills, its sweet temperament and endurance, but that it already had a buyer who’d paid for it. Elsa had known the instant she’d seen it that she wanted it, and had practically bullied the man into selling it to her. She’d wanted it so badly that she hadn’t quibbled over the extortionate price he’d named.

 

Elsa still wasn’t sure what she’d do with the mare, but she was more than happy to leave it for Anna. O’Brien hadn’t mentioned the mare to her, so Elsa assumed it was a sound horse.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Anna said with a smile, stroking the mare’s neck.

 

“Well, she’s yours,” Elsa said, relieved that Anna approved of it. She didn’t know what she’d have done if Anna didn’t like it. “Do you want to take her for our ride?”

 

“I do, but I think you should take her,” Anna said.

 

Elsa started. She had not expected that. “Me? No, she’s meant for you.”

 

“Oh, come on, Elsa,” Anna said. “Look at her. She clearly loves you.”

 

The queen glanced at the mare, which didn’t look particularly lovestruck. “Horses don’t like me. You know that.” It was true; they really didn’t and that was partly why Elsa avoided them. Most seemed to sense her powers, even when she had the ice under control, and shied away from her touch. Her old pony had largely been able to tolerate her, but just barely—hence the biting. It’d only gotten worse as she’d aged, probably because her powers also grew with her.

 

“If you’re thinking about that old pony of yours, you know that thing was just cranky,” Anna guessed correctly.

 

“You said it was bored.”

 

“Mostly just cranky, though. I think he might have been a little sick,” Anna said thoughtfully. “He did die a while ago, didn’t he? Well, anyway, Uncle Alexander should have just gotten you a different pony. That one scarred you for life and I’m not going to let you miss out on riding just because of that.”

 

Elsa sighed. Anna was trying to get her interested in horses and riding again. “You know very well that horses don’t like me.” _And I don’t like them either_ , was implied.

 

“This one does. Have you even ridden her?”

 

Elsa glanced at it again. The light wasn’t right, so she didn’t see copper. “No.” She had watched it getting exercised from her study window, though. She had to stand and look down at an angle to see the stables from that window, but she still did it. Almost daily. It’d become something of a habit, like the chess knights.

 

“Elsa, have you ridden _at all_ the past few years?” Anna asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

 

“No. You know I don’t particularly care for riding—”

 

“Elsa, you haven’t ridden in _years!_ ” Anna was aghast. Not being around horses at least in some capacity was unthinkable to the princess consort. Surely Elsa couldn’t have taken a carriage everywhere? “Just what _have_ you been doing these past years?”

 

A thick, tense silence dropped between them as Anna realized what she’d just said. Anna was instantly remorseful even as Elsa’s posture stiffened, her eyes going cool and blank, withdrawing as though the queen had just been slapped.

 

“Not much,” Elsa answered, her voice just as stiff as her body. “Forgive me, but I am somewhat out of practice.” _Which you just graciously noted_. Anna heard the hurt message underneath and it twisted in her chest; she felt like a clumsy clod. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your morning ride just for that. I shall call for an escort for you.”

 

Then Elsa gave her a brittle bow and turned to walk away.

 

Anna grabbed for Elsa’s arm to stop her and got a handful of her sleeve. “Elsa, wait, please.” God, why had she said that? It’d been so thoughtlessly hurtful and rude. She couldn’t blame Elsa for wanting to desert her. Who _said_ that?

 

Well, apparently, she did. She’d just been surprised, but that was no excuse. And now she was staring at Elsa’s painfully straight back. Elsa wasn’t even looking at her, her eyes deliberately aimed away.

 

“Elsa, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it that way.” Which begged the question, didn’t it, of what way she had meant it. She really didn’t know what Elsa had been doing the past few years, aside from buying wedding gifts and overseeing Arendelle. They had stopped exchanging letters after Elsa’s parents had died. _Her parents_. Anna winced and wanted to close her eyes in mortification—guilt had her in a chokehold.

 

“Please don’t go, Elsa,” Anna pleaded when Elsa didn’t respond. “I’m really sorry. That was—that was really horrible. And hurtful. I know you’re mad at me, but I—I really want to spend the day with you. We don’t have to go riding, we can do whatever you want—”

 

“Anna.” Elsa finally turned and the look on her face had Anna turning her face down to Elsa’s boots.

 

Elsa exhaled. The unexpected barb Anna had accidentally thrown at her still smarted, but it was fading after Anna’s apology. She hadn’t thought that sort of thing could really hurt her anymore, but it had been startling to have it leveled at her as an accusation from Anna. And it had only been a slip, which Elsa couldn’t decide was good or not. A slip indicated truth, not calculated hurt.

 

What Anna had unearthed was true, though. Elsa hadn’t done much at all lately. She just hadn’t expected to feel… _ashamed_ of it. Her pride had sustained a dent, but it would survive, Elsa decided. She would be an adult about this.

 

“I’ll go riding with if you take Roma,” Elsa said, indicating the chestnut Arabian. “I did not name her that,” Elsa added when Anna looked up. “The Italian breeder said she responded to that name and I—”

 

Elsa was interrupted when Anna wrapped her arms around her waist and drew her into an embrace. 

 

“I really am sorry I said that,” Anna said against Elsa’s shoulder. “I just… sometimes forget to shut my mouth and stupid things come out of it when that happens.”

 

If Elsa hadn’t already forgiven Anna for it, she would have now for that. Carefully, she returned the hug and leaned her cheek against Anna’s hair. The smell of horses and Anna, forever entwined in Elsa’s mind and, when she glanced down, her blue ribbon woven through copper—all of it brought immeasurable peace. 

 

How could she let this go? Just the thought of it made her hold Anna tighter. The more time she spent with Anna, the less certain she was that she was making the right choices. Doubt was something that could hamstring anyone and Elsa found herself wishing fiercely to have known what her father’s intent had been behind the betrothal.

 

She’d made an oath to protect the kingdom, but she’d also made a vow to Anna. Everything he’d taught her was for the throne, but marrying Anna went against all of that. Even if a ruler was completely incompetent, the single most important duty was to leave an heir to protect the realm and to further the family line. Rather like the role Anna had been raised to take on. They were more alike than either of them realized. Elsa wished he was alive so could have asked him why he was making her choose between Arendelle and Anna. She didn’t think she was equipped to make the right choice anymore.

 

“You’ll have to pick out a horse for me,” Elsa said after they stepped apart. “I would prefer one that does not want to constantly test its teeth on me.”

 

Anna laughed. “All right, I’ll find a sweet, placid horse for you.”

 

As Anna went to find a mount with Elsa trailing her, Elsa wondered if it was possible to not have to choose at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These chapters are expanding! This one was even longer than last, at 8500 words. I am not as satisfied with this chapter as I was with chapter nine, so feel free to air any issues you find with it; as always constructive criticism is appreciated. I also had considered moving the scene in the stables to the next chapter, but with the pacing, I decided I ought to try to put more into each chapter to allow in-story time to progress at a decent clip. Anyway, thanks for all the readers! And especially ones who’ve left me feedback, I enjoy reading all of them. I think that’s kind of implied, but I want to thank you guys every chapter anyway.
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> Also, I have written a one-shot for the childhood tourney that was referenced last chapter. It is posted on ff.net as well as AO3, so just go through my profile to look for An Informal Tourney. You do not need to read it to follow AFA, it’s just a side story.
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> PS- I am also looking for a beta reader for help with grammar, syntax, diction, etc. Feel free to PM me through ff.net or look me through tumblr (link is in my ff.net profile) if you are interested!


	11. Chapter 11

Elsa doubted the newly stocked stables possessed a saintly steed that could tolerate her. Even if there were more of the beasts now, all of them were expensive and weren’t the expensive ones usually high-strung? Not that Elsa would know, but she was proven wrong when Anna found an inky black stallion that did not glare at her in suspicion.

 

“Come on, he’s not going to bite!” Anna said. “You do have to, you know, touch the horse if you’re going to ride it.”

 

"Why? It’s trained to go and stop when I say so. Unless this is one of the ill-mannered ones you like to rehabilitate."

 

"Elsa! You can't treat horses like they're your subjects!" This was a recurring issue with Elsa, probably because of her autocratic tendencies that Anna found so attractive, though her feelings on that were currently edging into exasperation. Elsa seemed to expect everything to obey her if she glared at it enough, which could probably include the weather and what direction the sun rose. Anna had half a mind to believe that Elsa could very well make the sun rise in the north if it suited her purposes enough.

 

“Then I suppose I will have to present myself for his grace's approval?”

 

“His name is Hector,” Anna said, undaunted. “He's not a duke, he is your horse and he’s well-trained. Let him smell you. He’s the one who’s going to carry you around and a good rapport would be best.”

 

Elsa sighed and thrust her hand unceremoniously under the horse's nose. Hector’s ears flicked back, possibly at the sudden movement or in offense at the cavalier treatment. “You want me to have a good rapport with a horse named after a Greek hero.”

 

“He’s sired four champions,” Anna defended. “And he’s only four years old!”

 

“A prodigious achievement. One for each year it’s been alive,” Elsa answered with a faint sneer. “I shall rest easy knowing my investment will produce a champion return per annum. And is it done sniffing me? I grow anxious with my writing hand so close to its teeth.”

 

Anna nearly sighed again. Elsa was just nervous and testy, she told herself. And when Elsa was nervous and testy, she could be difficult and sarcastic. Anna reached deep within herself for her reservoir of patience, which appeared to have sprung a leak.

 

“His name is Hector,” she repeated. “Not ‘it.’ He does respond to his name. Riding would be a better experience for _both_ parties if the rider didn’t look at her horse like he will bite her.”

 

“Forgive me if prior experiences have colored present expectations,” Elsa returned, lip still curled. 

 

Anna rolled her eyes and seized Elsa’s wrist, pulling her closer to Hector. “It is okay to _pet_ him,” she said. “Just stroke his cheek. Yes, like that. See? He’s a good boy.”

 

Elsa’s eyebrow twitched. A good boy. Like it was an overgrown dog. That wasn’t far from the truth in actuality; Anna loved horses and horses loved her back. Even the ones that didn’t initially, all horses eventually adored Anna and responded enthusiastically to whatever she asked, be it jumping over very high shrubs to galloping ever faster. Elsa supposed she could understand the sentiment, though she would not be jumping over bushes or galloping anywhere no matter how nicely Anna asked.

 

Elsa eyed Hector. The horse didn’t appear to mind her touch, but was watching her just as warily. A nod from Anna had Elsa lifting her hand away to rub Hector’s broad neck. She was surprised at how solid the beast felt. The short bristly hair scraped against her riding glove, but it was almost… nice. He also felt quite warm. She was still prepared to retreat in case he found her alluring enough to avail himself for a taste of her hand, though.

 

“See? He’s a good boy. Very easy-tempered.” Anna would have suggested for Elsa to blow into Hector’s nose, but she thought that might have been pushing it. For later, Anna decided, she could get Elsa to bond more with Hector, though she thought Roma was better suited for the queen. Anna could see a calm temperament in the mare that would put Elsa at ease, or at least as much at ease as Elsa could be around horses. Anna sincerely wished Uncle Alexander would have just given Elsa a different pony when Elsa was younger so they wouldn’t have to deal with Elsa’s aversion to horses now.

 

“He seems to like me well enough,” Elsa allowed. “Ah, I think I see Gerda with our lunch.”

 

They both turned to watch the housekeeper walk in quick strides across the courtyard with a large satchel in her arms.

 

“It’s just lunch,” Anna said, her eyes wide. “Not an expedition.”

 

Elsa hid a smile as Gerda approached them.

 

“I hope you were not waiting long,” Gerda said, slightly out of breath. A groom stepped forward to take the satchel and, with Elsa’s nod, secured it to the back of Hector’s saddle.

 

“Were you expecting us to not return for a week?” Elsa said. “Did you pack a tent as well?”

 

“Your majesty had not specified what to pack, so I’ve put in an assortment,” Gerda said, giving Elsa a narrow-eyed look that promised unsubtle retribution. Elsa raised her brows in challenge. She had not forgotten their encounter from the library earlier that morning, and was eager to redeem herself.

 

“Actually, camping wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Anna commented.

 

Elsa and Gerda both swiveled their heads to stare at her. “What?” Anna exclaimed. “Kristoff and I used to do it all the time back in Corona! It’s fun!”

 

“Corona is considerably warmer than Arendelle,” Elsa said. “And if you’d like to get away from the castle occasionally, there are a few hunting boxes in the forest. With fireplaces and beds.”

 

Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, where’s the fun in that? You’d be fine, Elsa. I’d be the only one who’d have to worry about the cold.” Which was exactly why Elsa was adverse to the idea, and not just the general inconvenience of it. Camping? Why would anyone willingly consent to sleep on the ground when the alternative was available?

 

“Perhaps this is another matter we’ll revisit,” Elsa answered diplomatically, not wanting to argue before Gerda. While Anna rolled her eyes again, Elsa turned back to Gerda. “I’m not sure when we’ll be back, but you can expect us for dinner.” Her voice dropped so Anna could not hear. “Will my father-in-law be in attendance?”

 

Gerda frowned slightly, but she understood enough to know when Elsa was speaking of something important. “He has not indicated otherwise. I believe both the king and queen of Corona will be present.”

 

Relief and dread filled her, but Elsa did not allow her expression to change. She gave Gerda a tight nod. “Please ensure, to the best of your ability, that his plans do not change. I want no other guests present either.” Once Gerda nodded acknowledgement, Elsa returned to grasp Hector’s reins.

 

“We should leave now,” Elsa said to Anna. “We can leave through a side gate to bypass the city. If I remember correctly, there’s a trail that cuts through a part of the forest and leads into some fairly flat fields along the fjord.”

 

Anna mounted gracefully on Roma. “I don’t think I’ve been down that path, but if you know the way, I’ll follow.”

 

Which was a very good idea since that would mean Elsa could not see Anna's legs. Then Elsa looked at the ground to Hector’s saddle and wondered if she could manage to mount at all. It had been a very long time since she’d last done this. She hoped Hector’s magnanimity extended until she could get on his back—she prefered to at least be mounted before she humiliated herself. Grasping the saddle pommel in one hand and the seat with the other, Elsa slid one boot into the stirrup and, with a deep breath, hauled herself up.

 

The world tilted and dropped. With a mild start, Elsa found herself seated properly. Hector was still beneath her and placid. Gerda was watching her with a slight smile. Anna was to Elsa’s right and looking pleased as well.

 

“Good?” Anna asked, pulling Roma closer to Hector. Elsa settled into the saddle, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so high up. It was a bit unnerving, along with how broad a horse’s back was. She gingerly eased her other boot into the stirrup, accidentally brushed Hector’s flank, and nearly yelped when the horse took a step. Her hand lunged for the saddle pommel.  

 

“Good grief,” Elsa managed. She truly was out of practice. A quick inspection found no ice on the saddle leather anywhere. She sighed in relief; the gloves were helping with that, at least.

 

Anna chuckled. “You’re fine. Just relax. It’ll come back to you.”

 

Elsa certainly hoped so, especially if she was the one leading. Grasping the reins, she managed to aim Hector’s head to the side gate. Gerda went up to her and patted her knee. “You’ll be fine,” she said, echoing Anna. Her voice lowered. “Your wife does look very fetching today. I’ve packed a surprise for you. Don’t come back too early, now,” she said with a sly look.

 

Elsa stared at her housekeeper. “It’s not that kind of ride,” she muttered. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t break my neck during the course of this excursion.”

 

But Gerda had already stepped back and given Hector a good smack on the rump to send them off. Elsa, unprepared, nearly lurched backward and did actually yelp that time, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of Gerda’s hearty laugh.

 

Unsubtle retribution achieved, Elsa thought sourly, and clung to her saddle.

 

* * *

 

 

“No guards?” Anna asked as they left the city outskirts. Arendelle looked like a pretty gem surrounded by the clear waters of the fjord, the blue sky reflecting off the mirror-like surface. The path was leading into wooded terrain.

 

“Not for where we’re going,” Elsa answered. Her back was already slick with sweat while Anna looked as fresh as the moment they’d left. She had also forgotten how exerting riding could be; they’d only been gone for a half hour. “I have a certain freedom because of my powers.”

 

Anna, who was on Elsa’s right side, gave her a curious look. “Really? I mean, not that Arendelle is overrun by shady types, but you are the queen and outside the city walls. I’d have thought the guard would be chaperoning us.”

 

“This trail isn’t often used,” Elsa said. “And it’s precisely because I’m the queen that nobody will want to approach us if we are alone.” The smile that bared was cutting. “Cursed and all. Rumor has it that I can freeze anyone into a block of ice and simply dump them into the fjord.”

 

Anna was aghast. “But you would never do that, Elsa!”

 

“No, but people _think_ I can and will.” She shifted on the seat to try to relieve the tension in her lower back. “A perpetuated rumor can be used to advantageous effect. Because of that particular one I have a greater deal of autonomy than others. Others being monarchs, that is.”

 

“But that’s still awful,” Anna said in a small voice. “That people think you would do that.”

 

Elsa shrugged. “I don’t particularly mind it. It can be useful for business negotiations, that unsaid threat. Fear is a strong motivator to acquiesce to my terms.” She glanced at Anna. “Does it bother you so much?”

 

“A little,” Anna admitted. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want people to be afraid of you.” Not when Elsa was actually quite kind and so thoughtful, Anna thought. For heaven’s sake, Anna was wearing and sitting upon the evidence of Elsa’s thoughtfulness. She doubted anyone else would have done so much, wealth notwithstanding.

 

“I have a more… pragmatic view on it,” Elsa said after a moment’s hesitation. “The powers are—I don’t wish for them. But I have them and I can’t change that. I’ll make the best of it. But I wouldn’t wish my powers upon anyone else. It’s not... It’s not a gift.”

 

Anna looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it. They continued along the wooded trail with nothing but the sound of songbirds and their horses’ hoofbeats to fill the silence.

 

From behind Elsa, Anna found her eyes continually drawn back to the queen. It was like looking at a drab painting where the subject was the only source of color—the viewer couldn’t help but look and try to decipher the artist’s intent. Elsa did cut a fine figure with Hector’s strong lines, though she was somewhat awkward with the way she sat in the saddle. Anna had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting Elsa’s posture. At some point, Elsa finally had enough and shucked her jacket, folding it over the back of her saddle. Anna found her eyes lingering appreciatively over the way Elsa’s damp shirt stuck to her back. She couldn’t resist admiring Elsa anymore than she could breathing—she could prevent it for a few minutes, but eventually she would need to breathe lest the princess consort wanted to wind up blue in the face or unconscious on the ground.

 

Elsa’s figure was also very slender. She was not ghastly thin, but Elsa’s shoulder blades did seem a bit prominent with the way her shirt molded to them, and her waist a tad too slight. Anna knew that Elsa’s hands were strong, but the breadth of her shoulders was on the narrow side. Elsa didn’t quite look sickly, but more… overworked, Anna realized. And knowing Elsa, she probably was willfully overworking. 

 

Anna’s father had been right—Elsa didneed to eat more. She wasn’t quite skin and bones, but she was on her way to it if Anna left her to her own devices. Anna had every intention of making sure that Elsa would be properly fed, though she was recalling with some guilt that she had made Elsa leave before the queen could finish her breakfast. That thought also made her remember the coffee—Elsa didn’t even like coffee, which was a taste that both of them shared—Anna made a note to ask her about it. She tried to remember if Elsa had eaten much during the party and could only recall her picking at her food and sharing the chocolates. Elsa had to be feeling hungry by now.

 

“I can hear you thinking,” Elsa commented, not turning. “I think there might be two holes in the back of my shirt with how you’ve been staring at me.”

 

Anna couldn’t prevent the smile that crept up. “Was it so obvious?”

 

“You do like to fill the silences,” Elsa said, glancing over her shoulder at Anna. “If you weren’t talking, then you were daydreaming or thinking up schemes to get us in trouble.” A glint lit up Elsa’s eyes. “And I’d have to wade in to get you out of it if it was the latter.”

 

Anna laughed. “Maybe I’m actually thinking serious thoughts,” she said.

 

“Well, I suppose it was bound to happen one of these days,” was Elsa’s dry reply.

 

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Elsa! That was mean!” But Anna was unoffended and nudged Roma up next to Hector. “How do you feel, though?”

 

Elsa gave her an arch look. “Like I’ve been riding for the first time in forever?”

 

“Well, other than that.” Anna tried to discreetly search for signs of fatigue on Elsa’s face and didn’t find anything unusual except the look of someone being forced to exercise after too long. “Are you tired? We can stop if you want.”

 

Elsa smiled thinly at her. “Regretting turning down my offer for an escort?” Elsa hated looking so unskilled before Anna even though she had warned the younger woman.

 

God. Elsa was reacting just as Anna thought she might—affronted dignity glared back at the princess consort. “Not at all,” Anna said lightly, deciding to counter the barb with good humor. “I was just asking in case you’d rather have lunch before or after we get to the fields. I was thinking a good race would be nice once we get there.”

 

Anna was rewarded with a suspicious glance. “I see,” Elsa allowed after a pause. “My back does hurt a bit,” she conceded.

 

“You’re too tense,” Anna said. “You’re not centered on the saddle and it’s jarring you.”

 

“I’m not sure how else to do this,” Elsa confessed once she was sure Anna would not think less of her for it. Her damned dented pride. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been very good at it even when I rode more often.”

 

Anna shook her head at the apology. “It’s all right. You… I don't think you like doing something that you can’t control,” she said. Elsa looked at her in surprise; Anna was a bit surprised herself. She’d never consciously thought about it, but it did make sense for Elsa. She decided to press on.

 

“You’ve spent most of your life trying to control your powers, and doing what your father taught you, and Uncle Alexander never did place much stock in riding,” Anna said with a slight smile. “But horses _can’t_ always be controlled. They’re another living thing and while they can be trained and be well-mannered, you can’t ever really dictate them the same way you can people.”

 

There was another pause as Elsa absorbed her words. “Well,” she said, considering the words. The reasoning wasn’t unsound, though it also uncovered some parts of herself that were not very flattering. Elsa did not want to turn her face away from truth, however, and glanced at Anna to continue.

 

Anna reddened. She wondered if any of that sounded coherent. “I just mean that that might be why you’re not comfortable around them, your powers aside. Hector doesn’t mind you, clearly, but you’re still not willing to trust him.”

 

“He’s an animal,” Elsa said automatically, then looked away when she realized she’d just proved Anna’s point.

 

“At least you didn’t call him an ‘it,’” Anna said, smiling. “Progress?”

 

“Perhaps,” Elsa permitted. “As good as your riding lessons are, though, I don’t think I will improve by the day’s end.”

 

“Well, today isn’t about learning to ride,” Anna said. “It’s just about spending the day together.”

 

Elsa gazed at her for a moment, but smiled and nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

They completed the remainder of the trip to the stretch of open field by following the edge of the fjord. They traveled in relative silence, both contained within their own thoughts. The sun was high above their heads and the day warm when they arrived. The fjord lay on one side of the field and trees lined the other with a cleared path that led away from the water into the mountains. Sunlight brightened the tall grass and there was a idyllic air to the scene, the only sound coming from the wind blowing through.

 

“This is my family’s land,” Elsa remarked. “Not the kingdom’s. It used to be a small bit of farmland, about three acres, but the previous tenants left and my father let it stay vacant.” Elsa pointed to the cleared path. “The farmhouse is still standing further up that path, I think.”

 

“Do you come here often?”

 

Elsa shook her head. “No, not for some time now,” She winced as her back and legs complained. “Anna, I need to get down. I don’t know how you can do this all the time,” Elsa sighed.

 

“You just haven’t done it enough. Go riding with me every morning and you won’t be sore.”

 

Elsa didn’t look particularly enthused by the invitation. “We’ll see,” was all she had to say about it.

 

“Isn’t it nice, though? Being outside?” Anna asked. “This place is so pretty, too.”

 

“It is nice,” Elsa conceded. “I’m glad that you like it. You’re free to come here for your morning rides if you want. It’s very quiet. I doubt you’d encounter many travelers on the road, especially if you go the way we came.” 

 

“I’d prefer to come here with _you_ , Elsa, Morning rides are more enjoyable with company, you know.” Anna nudged Roma closer to Hector to meet Elsa’s eyes.

 

“Please consider it,” she said. It couldn’t be healthy to stare at paperwork indoors all day. Elsa needed to go outside, at least once in a while. “It doesn’t have to be daily. Will you think about it?”

 

“Is it so important to you?” Elsa asked, slightly taken aback. “We didn’t always ride together when we were children.”

 

“You started riding less when you were older,” Anna said. “And is it so wrong for me to want your company?”

 

After a moment spent studying the younger woman, and wondering if she could ever really like riding as Anna did, Elsa nodded once. “I’ll consider it.”

 

Well, it was better than nothing. “Elsa, when did you start drinking coffee? You don’t even _like_ coffee,” Anna asked, thoughts turning to the picnic and food.

 

Elsa didn’t answer. She led them to the foot of a large tree and gingerly dismounted. “We don’t have to have lunch now, but I cannot stay in the saddle for much longer. If you want, you can take Roma for a run and I’ll just sit and watch.”

 

Anna wasn’t that hungry, but Elsa needed to eat. “Oh, don’t be silly, we’ll have lunch now.” She secured Hector and Roma’s reins to a low-hanging branch and helped Elsa unload the satchel. Inside, they found a large blanket, a bottle of wine, a half of a wrapped cold chicken, cheese, flatbread and assorted pastries and other dishes. There was also a single sleeping roll that they both studiously ignored—Anna would have been delighted at the sight of it, but seduction was the last thing on her mind since she had realized the state of Elsa’s health.

 

Elsa stared at the wine. “Gerda knows very well that I don’t drink alcohol,” she muttered. “Something special indeed.” She wanted to sigh inwardly. The sleeping roll was probably because the housekeeper knew that they had spent the night in separate rooms. Trust Gerda to play matchmaker this way, Elsa thought with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. Which made no sense since they were already married. What did her housekeeper care if the royal couple was enjoying intimate relations or not?

 

“Well, the grooms did pack water flasks,” Anna said, missing Elsa’s last comment. Anna unfurled the blanket and laid it out under the shade, placing the cloth edge right next to the tree. Elsa took the cue and eased herself down along the trunk, sighing in relief.

 

“Thank you,” Elsa murmured, ever polite. She felt sore enough to let Anna lay out their lunch. Her lower back was a giant tight knot and her thighs in not much better condition. If she was this sore at present, she would be in even worse shape tomorrow. And Anna wanted to do this more, she sighed inwardly. Elsa knew that she would probably agree to it—Anna had a way of bringing her around to doing things she didn’t even want to do. 

 

Sitting crosslegged a decorous distance away, Anna cut heaping amounts of everything aside from the pastries onto a plate and gave it to Elsa. Elsa looked down at her plate in bemusement.

 

“I can hardly finish all this. Is this your way of telling me I need to eat more?”

 

It was, but Anna had learned from the previous attempt at showing concern. “You didn’t finish your breakfast,” Anna said instead. “I thought you’d be hungry after the ride.” It couldn’t be construed as anything but politely considerate.

 

“Ah,” was all Elsa had to say about her veiled solicitousness. Anna wasn’t sure if Elsa believed her, but the queen started eating and went quiet. Anna shed her own jacket in acknowledgement of the warm day and chewed on a bit of flatbread.

 

“I don’t like coffee,” Elsa said suddenly, after several minutes of silence. “But I’ve had enough of it that I feel poorly if I don’t drink it now.”

 

“Why did you start drinking it?” Anna asked. She had a feeling she knew why.

 

“Late nights.” Elsa knew she was dancing around the real issue and that her response had implied it was for work, but the coffee had originally been to avoid sleeping and that was a subject she did not want to broach at all. The lack of sleep had meant more hours available to work, but she didn’t want to lie to Anna either. Another half-truth was all she could manage. “And I used to drink it with a bit of chocolate at first to tolerate the taste. I’ve gotten used to having it without that now.”

 

Anna handed Elsa a water flask and tried not to appear too watchful of how much Elsa was eating—she had experienced that with her mother and knew hovering was an irritating habit to endure when it was directed at you. If Anna found it annoying, then Elsa would probably scalp her for it. “So, you drink it out of habit now?”

 

“Yes. And to avoid splitting headaches.” Elsa exhaled slowly and laid her head back against the tree. It really was a beautiful day. The breeze from the fjord had cooled her and her skin was no longer damp with sweat. The sound of air tousling grass and tree leaves was soothing; it was nothing romantic like music, but just a pleasant sound all the same. A reminder that there was another world outside of the castle, away from work and walls.

 

Anna bit her lip, her eyes on Elsa. Was now a good time? Elsa hadn’t enjoyed the ride, she knew, but that was to be expected for any out of practice rider. Elsa did look better sitting down, her shoulders relaxed and hands loose on her lap. She had even shed the riding gloves to eat. Anna imagined the thick leather restricted dexterity unlike Elsa’s cloth gloves. Lovely as Elsa’s hands were, they were the last thing on Anna’s mind.

 

“Elsa,” Anna started to say, her voice quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

 

Anna sounded serious. The queen opened her eyes and shifted her plate off her lap to the blanket. She blinked a few times, surprised at how at ease she felt. Maybe Anna’s opinion on exercise and outdoors had some merit.

 

“Of course,” Elsa said, composing herself. She would have sat up straighter, but her back was still upset with her.

 

Anna looked down at her hand, fingers plucking at blades of grass nervously. “You promise not to get angry?”

 

Elsa’s brows drew up together. Anna looked apprehensive. “I won’t,” Elsa promised. She couldn’t imagine what Anna wanted to ask. “Provided you’re not about to tell me you did something ludicrous and I must go do something about it this very instant. Then I might be somewhat perturbed that we have to rush our return and my back really will kill me if I move right now,” she said lightly. 

 

Anna gave her a smile, quick and small, but it disappeared as her face turned serious. “Why… why did you stop writing?”

 

Elsa’s lips parted even as her belly clenched and plummeted. She had not expected that. The silence grew as Elsa tried to come up with a suitable answer, until Anna asked, “Was it because of your parents? I did write you a few times afterward, but you… you never wrote back. And Mother said you might be… busy.” Anna chewed at her lip, her eyes darting away. “I’m sorry if I was bothering you. I didn’t know what else to do, not when Papa said we could not rush to Arendelle without knowing what you wanted.”

 

Elsa recalled those letters. They were the only ones from Anna that Elsa had read once, then locked away. She had not been able to reply. She had not even been able to speak of the loss, or write about it, even to Anna. Not then, and possibly not now either.

 

“Anna,” Elsa began. The younger woman looked up, expecting refusal. Elsa opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. The words felt lodged and heavy in her chest, like a boulder. Three years and she still could not do this. Not that she had tried to before, but it still tasted of failure.

 

“That really isn’t...a suitable conversation topic for a day like this,” Elsa tried. She didn’t know if she was saying that to avoid having to talk about it or if it really was to keep it from casting a shadow on their outing. She breathed out. “Is there a reason why you’re asking now?”

 

“Well, we haven’t talked about what’s happened before. Before the wedding, I mean,” Anna said, eyes still downcast. “And I thought… we should. Elsa, I know you were right that we’ve changed. But the letters at least would have kept us in contact. And so much has happened since then, like your… your parents.” Anna bit her lip again and made herself look at Elsa, trying to find something in her face to confirm that she was right. Elsa didn’t look angry or upset, but she did look uncomfortable.

 

“I want to know, Elsa. You know what chocolates I like, you know how much I like horses, and I feel like I know you in some ways, Elsa, but in other ways, I don’t. We know these little things about each other, but I feel like that’s not enough.” How could it be enough? The depth of how much they did not know each other seemed impossibly deep, like staring down a barren well, trying to find a hidden stream. It gnawed at Anna insistently like an unreachable itch—somehow, she knew Elsa, but she also just… didn’t.

 

Perhaps that was what the courtship was for, but Anna could say with certainty that she had not known Hans and he had courted her so properly it had bordered on boring. Not that Anna had thought of that before, back when she was obviously an untried girl full of grand ideas and knew nothing of the real world. Knew nothing of Elsa, or proper kisses, or real passion. In just a day, Elsa had upended Anna’s every expectation without so much as a by your leave—all just by marrying her. A day before and Anna would never have cornered someone up against a wall and invited them into her bed with the confidence of a courtesan, nor would she have actively tried to seduce them. Elsa had remade her, carved her out from a formless shape like an ice sculpture, into something filled with heat and warmth and light. So many feelings that made Anna wish she was a poet.

Anna wondered, at the back of her mind, if she’d also changed Elsa in some way.

 

Elsa looked away. “The pitfalls of an arranged marriage,” she said tonelessly.

“Elsa,” Anna sighed. “I don’t mean it like that. The only thing I know for sure is that you care about me enough to buy these wedding gifts and you like kissing me. And that you obviously want to have sex with me, but won’t. And you promised you’d tell me why,” Anna added, as though Elsa may have forgotten.

 

It was so blunt that Elsa grimaced. “I did promise,” she affirmed. She left the sex part unaddressed because Anna obviously did not need more reassurances in that area.

 

“I’m horribly attracted to you as well,” Anna said with a trace of amusement because she did notice what Elsa had left unsaid. “And I care about you, too. I admit that I didn’t know what kind of marriage this would be, being married to you. I had… no frame of reference. I don’t know anybody, well, any woman who is married to another woman.”

 

Elsa didn’t either, but she hardly socialized, so saying she didn’t know any married women as well seemed extraneous. She forced her mind away from focusing on Anna’s declaration of… caring. God, it sounded so… She refused to finished the thought, not when her attention needed to stay on the current topic at hand. “Your concern is that you don’t know what to expect from being married to me, then? Duties notwithstanding?”

 

“A little bit of that. But it’s more that I don’t know anything about what you’ve been up to.” Which was why Anna had started upon the letters as a starting point. It felt as though they’d lost each other at that point.

 

Elsa couldn’t help that saber of a smile that flashed, cutting and cold. “Not much if you’ll recall.”

 

Anna flinched even as Elsa instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry—”

 

“No, that was uncalled for,” Elsa interrupted. She breathed out. “I can talk about the letters. Not… not about my parents.”

 

Death affected people in different ways; Anna knew that. She’d never experienced that kind of loss, not in the way Elsa had, but she could understand that it wasn’t dinner conversation. She would need to be patient. In certain things, pushing forward a step could mean losing a mile of progress. She could not force it out of Elsa because the potential fallout from that… She didn’t even know what kind of damage there would be, but she didn’t think the trust between them would survive it. Was that all they had? Anna wondered. A tenuous trust, a great deal of passion and caring? Sprinkled in with fond childhood memories that seemed to pale in comparison to four years of silence, loss, and a whirlwind wedding?

 

If it was, Anna wanted to build upon it. She wanted to make something real out of it with Elsa.

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your letters. It wasn’t anything you did. I just… couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say.” Elsa looked away, eyes settling on the calm waters of the fjord. Her hands gripped each other, knuckles white, but the air felt cold. Or perhaps it was just her that was cold.

 

“I felt like that for a long time, so that’s why I never resumed our correspondence.” How could she have? The last thing said between them was of death. How could she just start writing again and pretend it had never happened? It was like a door had closed between them in that area, one that Elsa could not open. Would not open.

 

“And if it’s any consolation, I haven’t spoken to anyone about... that,” Elsa said. “This is probably the closest I’ve come to… speaking of it.”

 

It was a very small consolation for Anna, but only because she knew now that Elsa had bottled up her pain, sealed it away, and moved on. It was in her face, the way Elsa’s eyes became shuttered. It could not be healthy, especially to have held it in for so many years and to have endured the loss alone. Anna wished fiercely, with every fiber of her being, that she could have been there for Elsa. Even if she would have been ill-equipped to help her, at least Elsa would not have been alone. Tears abruptly filled Anna’s throat, snaking up to the back of her eyes. Anna gave an unceremonious sniff.

 

Elsa glanced at her, her face turning remorseful when a tear escaped and left a wet trail down Anna’s cheek.

 

“Ah. I’m sorry. I’ve made you cry,” Elsa said awkwardly. Guilt nipped at her. She had made Anna cry. She did not know what she should do and fidgeted, feeling quite useless.

 

Anna shook her head and scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. She was too sensitive to this sort of thing and it was turning her into a weepy female. “It’s not your fault, Elsa. I’m sorry, you know how I get.”

 

Elsa fished out a handkerchief, knowing well that Anna never had one because she was always forgetting or losing them. “You won’t shed a tear if you take a tumble off your horse, but you will if you see one being born,” she said with a faint smile. Anna blew her nose noisily into the handkerchief.

 

“I wish I’d been there for you,” Anna said, her voice shaky from tears.

 

“It was a long time ago, Anna,” Elsa protested.

 

“But at least you wouldn’t have been by yourself!”

 

“I wasn’t entirely alone. I had Gerda.”

 

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s something,” Anna said, only a little sarcastically. “Not to disparage Gerda, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d let her help you.”

 

Elsa smiled slightly. “You’d be surprised.” She gazed at Anna and knew words would not be enough. With a slight wince, Elsa rearranged herself against the tree and straightened her legs. Elsa could offer comfort, even if she couldn’t accept it. “Come here,” Elsa beckoned gently.

 

Anna went to her immediately, sitting in the open space between her bent legs and curled into Elsa like it was a long-standing habit. Anna’s head went into the crook between Elsa’s neck and shoulder and her arms looped about Elsa’s waist. Elsa wrapped an arm about Anna’s shoulders while her other hand rested on the space beside her thigh, fingers twisting at the blanket.

 

“I’m not sure you’d have been able to help much, Anna, if you’d come,” she said softly. “I was… I wasn’t entirely…” _Whole_ , Elsa thought. The loss had shattered her into so many pieces. She thought of the empty ballroom covered in ice, how the servants had to break open doors frozen shut because Gerda had been afraid that grief would end the last surviving member of House Arendelle. To say that Elsa had not handled the loss well was a gross understatement.

 

She had thought if something could be broken, then surely ice could mend it and she could put herself back together again. Or maybe she’d gone in there to freeze time in place, pretend that messenger had never come, and return to that blissfully ignorant week before everything had been taken from her. Foolish notions, both of them, borne of trauma, helplessness and grief. She had been a disappointment to everyone with how she’d hidden away. No, Elsa was glad Anna hadn’t been there to witness her breakdown, the way she’d so profoundly fallen apart. She had needed to be dragged out by her own housekeeper, like a mongrel crouched under a table. Mourning was one thing, but what’d she done… Elsa didn’t even know what to call it. It’d been unacceptable. That was really the only appropriate word for it. Unacceptable.

 

Even remembering it made her feel exhausted; it was like digging up an old buried secret. She did not want to think about it, much less speak of it. It was such an old thing, something that could not be changed, and pointless to dwell on. Her lost family still lingered in her thoughts, but she had no wish to think of the way they had died, or of the way she had cracked. It made her burn with shame.

 

She clenched her first around the blanket again, frost nipping into her skin. She wished she hadn’t taken off the gloves.

 

“Elsa?” Anna drew her back.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said mechanically. “I haven’t thought about this in a long time.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Anna echoed. “For making you remember it. I miss them, too.” Then she sniffed loudly again and made a plucking motion at Elsa’s shirt front. It distracted the queen away from her thoughts, that motion; Elsa knew Anna couldn't have done it deliberately. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting to look down to confirm what she suspected. “I hope you’re not using my shirt as a handkerchief.”

 

“No,” Anna said in that small voice that meant the exact opposite.

 

Elsa sighed, discreetly wiped her damp hand on her breeches, and fished out another handkerchief. “I usually take two of these when I’m with you,” she offered by way of explanation. Anna took it and blew her nose again.

 

“I forgot mine,” Anna said apologetically.

 

“You always forget yours.” Elsa stroked a hand over Anna’s hair, trying to keep her attention on something other than memories. Her fingers brushed the blue ribbon, then down the sleek copper hair, letting the strands flow out of her palm.

 

“You’re wearing my ribbon,” Elsa murmured.

 

“You didn’t ask for it back,” Anna mumbled. Elsa felt solid and alive, Anna thought. The feel of Elsa against her own body was comforting, knowing that she was there. Elsa was still there. Pressed against Elsa, Anna only felt protectiveness and sorrow for the girl who’d suffered alone. She was also even more aware of how Elsa needed to eat more and it hurt to think that Elsa had been so damaged that she couldn’t even take care of herself anymore. Well, her job now, Anna thought with resolve.

 

“I was too busy trying to find yours last night,” Elsa replied. She continued to play with the ends of Anna’s hair, her voice just starting to drift drowsily. “I did find it this morning, though. Before breakfast.”

 

“Where was it?”

 

“Under the chessboard. Gerda found it before I did.” Elsa felt Anna start and, without thinking, stroked a hand down Anna’s back to calm her. “Shh. Gerda gave it back to me. She won’t breathe a word about it.”

 

Anna’s lids fluttered at the touch, the way Elsa’s fingers feathered down her spine. If only Elsa would touch horses so easily, she thought hazily. They’d all love her, too.

 

“Did she say anything to you?”

 

Elsa sighed heavily, remembering her earlier defeat. “Yes. I made off with most of my dignity intact. And a bruise.” It even twinged a bit as she thought of it, like a battle wound.

 

“How did you manage that?”

 

“I was under the table looking for it. Gerda startled me and I cracked my head. Don’t laugh at me,” Elsa said, sounding very put-upon. “Gerda already did.”

 

Anna managed to stifle the giggle that welled up at the image of Elsa hitting her head under the chessboard while Gerda looked on, but Elsa could feel her body shaking with mirth and sighed again.

 

“Everybody is enjoying themselves at my expense today,” Elsa complained. “Sometimes I wonder if I have any authority at all.”

 

Anna stroked her hand along Elsa’s back, much like what the queen had done to her. “You’re very much in charge and everybody knows it,” she reassured with a smile, cheek pressed to Elsa’s shoulder. “A perfect tyrant, remember? With an impressive glare.”

 

Elsa glanced down at copper hair. “An impressive glare?”

 

“Very. Makes me shake in my boots. Everybody else, too, if they wore boots.”

 

Elsa snorted, but did not comment. It felt good to just talk about innocuous things. She didn’t think she could handle much more than that. Her lids felt like lead and her breathing was becoming deeper and more even. She wanted to sleep. Apparently, one good night of rest didn’t quite make up for several years’ worth of poor ones. When was the last time she had spent a day without working? She couldn’t even remember. She felt so drained.

 

“Anna,” Elsa murmured, her mind trying to grasp for the last thing that had been said, but the attempt was like reaching for smoke. “I’m quite tired. I’m sorry, but I might fall asleep.” She tried rubbing at her eyes, but it did nothing. She could feel her chin wanting to drop to her chest. She was quite comfortable—Anna’s warm weight against her side, the quiet field, the cool shade, all of it was making her want to just drift off.

 

Anna sat up to examine her. Elsa didn’t look like a queen at the moment, not when she was at the edge of sleep. Elsa tried to focus her eyes on Anna, blinking slowly, but Anna could see that they were heavy. “Sleep then, Elsa,” Anna whispered.

 

Elsa frowned and tried to struggle upright. Anna stopped her with a hand to her shoulder—she didn’t even need to apply much force—and made Elsa lean back again. “No, we were supposed to go riding and have a picnic. And then…” Elsa trailed off. “Did we plan something else?” Her words were slurring a little, and it made that protective feeling come back again for Anna. Elsa had to be very tired if she couldn’t even remember.

 

Anna shook her head. “No. We’ve done all that. You’re allowed to sleep.”

 

“But you’re here. I don’t… want to just sleep. You want to do things. Allegedly with me,” Elsa said, her voice drifting again. “Can’t imagine why. I’m really very boring, you know. Don’t know how to… have fun.”

 

Anna frowned at Elsa, but her eyes were closed. “I don’t think you’re boring,” she said, just in case Elsa was still conscious.

 

Elsa smiled faintly in response. “Mm. Don’t molest me in my sleep, please.”

 

Anna released a surprised laugh. Elsa could still remember certain things, evidently. “No, I’d prefer if you were awake for that,” she teased.

 

Elsa didn’t reply, finally surrendering herself.

 

Anna watched her for a long time. Elsa’s face was smooth and relaxed in sleep. It was the first time Anna had seen Elsa sleep in years and she looked so human. Not a queen or a ruler. Just a woman in repose on a sunny day under a tree. Anna had to smile—she had expected to see her spouse’s sleeping face for the first time in the morning after their wedding night in bed. Instead, Elsa had fallen asleep underneath her outside in the afternoon. They were doing everything backwards and out of order.

 

Or maybe it was just right for them. Anna reached for her jacket and draped it over Elsa. Elsa stirred briefly, then settled again, like a child. Anna couldn’t resist; she bent down and brushed a kiss over blonde hair and remembered the bruise Elsa had suffered for her ribbon. The tale still made her grin. Poor Elsa, she thought fondly. Well, it was a good thing Elsa had plenty of dignity if it was getting assailed so much.

 

Then she went to where Hector was grazing and stroked her hand over his nose. "Let's take you out for a run," she said. "Would you like that?”

 

He nudged at her palm and nickered. “Yes, I bet you would,” Anna murmured. “Thank you for not letting Elsa fall off. I know it couldn’t have been pleasant with the way she sat on you like a sack of potatoes.” Not that she’d ever tell Elsa that, but she still felt she needed to apologize to Hector on the queen’s behalf. She doubted he had encountered a worse rider before given his fine pedigree and the renowned stables he had been bought from.

 

“Elsa will get better,” Anna promised. “I’ll have her ride Roma next, so you won’t have to put up with it very much.” She untied his reins and nudged him into a canter to go explore the field and surrounding woods.

 

* * *

 

 

It was late afternoon when Elsa opened her eyes. She found herself on her side, the picnic blanket beneath her. As Elsa sat up, she saw that she’d been using her own rolled jacket up jacket as a pillow and Anna’s burgundy one as a cover.

 

Elsa rubbed at her eyes. God. She’d fallen asleep, and for several hours it appeared. She looked out to the fjord and saw Hector drinking by the edge and riderless. Roma was conspicuously missing, as was Anna. Elsa stood and stretched, wincing as her back and legs protested. The picnic food had been packed away, but Anna had thoughtfully left a water flask behind and Elsa drained it in her thirst. As she was twisting it shut, she heard the sound of galloping hooves and looked to the source.

 

There Anna was, astride Roma’s back as they flew down the field. Elsa could see every detail perfectly: Anna was off the saddle, knees bent and leaning forward, reins loose in her hands. Her white shirt pulled taut over her front against the wind, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing toned forearms. Her form, as far as Elsa could tell, was perfect. Copper whipped behind her like a flag laced in blue.  

 

Elsa had been right. In the afternoon sun, Roma’s coat turned into that heartbreakingly beautiful molten copper, exactly like Anna’s. It shimmered in the sun as they moved, the mare’s legs a blur as Anna urged her on. If it was possible, Anna had grown even more beautiful—this was the first Elsa had seen her on the back of a galloping horse in years. They moved together, horse and rider, as though they weren’t even separate beings anymore.

 

Grace and glory, was all Elsa could think, her eyes transfixed by the sight. Anna had always evoked that feeling of witnessing something so special whenever Elsa watched her ride. The expression of pure joy that always appeared on Anna’s face when she found a rhythm with a horse, when a horse did something just right as she’d taught, only added to it. Elsa could see that expression now, and felt privileged.

 

Then Anna saw her and that pure joy turned into something else that Elsa couldn’t decipher, but it made her heart skip a beat. Elsa waved to her. Anna slowed Roma into a trot and stopped before the queen.

 

“You’re awake,” Anna said, smiling. Her hair was windblown and Elsa wanted to pull Anna down and smooth it down with her fingers. Her bare hands twitched.

 

“I am,” Elsa said, smiling back. She should have felt guilty for sleeping the day away, but she’d seen Anna ride and could only feel happy.

 

“Was it good?” Anna asked.

 

She nodded. “It was.” It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. Her mind felt clear, though that could have been from watching Anna as well. Elsa didn’t care—she felt good all the same and those kinds of feelings were rare for her.

 

Anna dismounted and went to Elsa, reins in hand. Roma wasn’t even winded. Anna was pleased that the mare was as fit and well-kept as she looked. Her gait was smooth, the kind that made a rider feel as though they were floating over the ground.

 

When they were within reach, Elsa reached up to brush Anna’s fringe back from her eyes.

 

“What were you up to while I was unconscious?” Elsa asked. Her hand was already drifting uncertainly to the top of Anna’s head, wondering if Anna would permit it.

 

“Just exploring the area,” Anna said. She submitted willingly to Elsa’s impromptu grooming. It felt nostalgic—another thing they’d done when they were younger. Elsa had tidied her up when she wasn’t presentable even to the most loving of parents after a day spent in the saddle.

 

“Did you find anything of interest?” Elsa asked as she tucked a loose strand behind Anna’s ear. It had gotten pulled out of the ribbon, which was why Anna preferred braids, but Elsa did like her hair unplaited.

 

“The farmhouse you mentioned, and some trails. They don’t look used very much, but shouldn’t be difficult to travel.”

 

“Mm. I can look for a map of the area. Are you already planning morning rides for me?” Elsa answered, distracted. A stubborn lock curled over her fingers and she patiently smoothed it down again. “There. From ruffian to royalty again.”

 

Anna grinned and looked up. Elsa did look well rested. “Maybe. I want to be prepared, as you like to say. Both Hector and Roma are very good horses, by the way.”

 

“You think all horses are good horses. Quite democratic of you,” Elsa replied drily.

 

Anna laughed at that. “I am indiscriminate about it, aren’t I? But I just meant they’re well cared for.” Anna began to walk to the fjord to water Roma and Elsa fell into step beside her. Hector grazed as Roma began to drink, a comfortable silence falling while they gazed out at the sparkling water.

 

The city was still visible in the distance downstream, the soaring turrets of the castle arching high above the battlements. Two flags waved gently in the wind at the highest tower. Anna recognized the the topmost flag as Elsa’s royal standard, the crocus upon a violet and green background, but not the one below. Emblazoned upon a green field was a pair of facing golden horses with a crocus between their rearing hooves. Anna recognized the horses from her father’s royal standard of Corona.

 

“Your new standard,” Elsa said, as though she had read Anna’s thoughts. “The flags are there to mean we are in residence, of course.”

 

Anna turned to stare at Elsa. She knew that when members of royalty were wed, new seals would be made, but it had never occurred to her that she would get her own.

 

“I hope you like it,” Elsa said, looking back at the castle. “You’re part of House Arendelle, now.”

 

She was Elsa’s family now. Anna took Elsa’s ungloved hand in hers, their fingers interlaced, stepping closing until they were shoulder to shoulder. Elsa looked backed at her in surprise.

 

“I love it,” Anna told her with a smile, and they stood together like that for a time, eyes on their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably one of the fluffiest things I've ever written, but I felt like these two kind of needed some quiet downtime. I hope it's enough to offset the sexual tension and angst?
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure if there are many fics out there that may have explored how her parents' deaths may have affected Elsa, so it's something I'd definitely like to explore. I have received some feedback regarding the pace of the story as well as character development and I'd be happy to respond to more via my tumblr (search for requetude on tumblr) or through PM on ff.net. Forgive me if I am slow to respond, though...
> 
> I'm not sure if anybody has noticed, but I have started to integrate both Elsa and Anna's POVs into the same scene rather than separating them; this is for the sake of time and pacing because a lot of their POVs in previous chapters were overlapping and not very conducive to advancing the plot. I hope this doesn't bother anyone? At least this way, the story can continue to progress.
> 
> Also, you should check out my tumblr for some AFA fanart! I will update links in my profile later. As always, thanks to all the readers following this! Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Also, this is unbeta'd, so forgive the grammar errors.


	12. Chapter 12

Anna managed to convince Elsa to ride Roma on the return trip. Elsa had initially been reluctant, but once they had determined that Roma was just as placid as Hector and would not attempt to bite the queen, they were on their way home.

 

 _Home_. It sounded warm, conjuring up the image of that pretty castle bearing her new standard. Anna had spent many summers there with Elsa and Kristoff, but home had been Corona then. She had loved those summers, but when the time came, she and Kristoff would board that ship to go back to Corona. She couldn’t call Corona her home anymore and that thought was edged in sadness. She would miss it, the castle where she’d been born and grown up in, the royal stables that provided shelter from etiquette lessons, the wide open plains where wild horse herds still roamed occasionally. Her eyes turned to Elsa, whose posture had improved a bit after some graciously received advice, and the sadness didn’t seem like that anymore.

 

No, Anna decided, she would forever remember her home where she’d spent her formative years, but home was now with Elsa and that thought was accompanied with hope and anticipation. It felt like a new start.

 

Elsa, however, was not feeling hopeful or anticipatory. The closer they came to the castle, the more aware she was of what she needed to do once she got Frederick alone. It made her hands clench around the reins and filled her with heavy dread. She would need to broach the subject of annulment with Anna’s father.

 

It was difficult to think about, but Elsa knew she could not avoid the issue. Her eyes turned to Anna riding beside her and, of course, it hurt even more when she did, so she averted her gaze as well as her thoughts.

 

The day they had spent together had been good. Her sore body and mentions of her family notwithstanding, it had been a good day. It had also brought into stark relief that she hadn’t even known what constituted good days anymore before marrying Anna—every passing day had largely felt the same except for growing anxiety with the approaching wedding. It had been work, planning, arranging, delegating, overseeing, the whole collective consequence of being the one everybody looked to for decisions, right along with lack of sleep, a skittish appetite, and stretched nerves.

 

Elsa could understand why Kristoff left. She sometimes even envied him because she knew she would never leave. Her father had taught her well to never shirk her responsibilities. Even if she’d neglected some duties in lieu of the wedding, Elsa would never leave it all behind. It was what she was born to do and Anna was her responsibility; she had to think of her best interests and act thusly.

 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand touch her leg.

 

“Elsa?”

 

“Christ,” Elsa managed, trying to recollect herself. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage while Roma snorted at her.

 

“You look grim,” Anna explained, her face concerned. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Elsa said automatically, the response ringing hollow even to her own ears.

 

“It’s got to be something to have you looking like that. You can talk to me, you know. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

Anna would need to know eventually, but Elsa did not want to tell her until the matter had already been addressed with Frederick, which meant more half-truths. Elsa almost sighed. It felt like she was constantly lying to Anna. It wasn’t easy—she had never lied to Anna in their youth because there had never been any reason to. Everything had been so much simpler then.

 

“It’s a matter I have to discuss with your father,” Elsa said. “I can’t really elaborate more on it.”

 

Anna sighed, disappointed. “More things to keep from me, Elsa?”

 

Elsa looked away. “It’s not that,” she said. “I promise that I will tell you.”

 

“Can you tell me what it’s about? Business, maybe?”

 

Elsa struggled with herself. The lies, she thought. They were piling up. Surely this many half-truths added up to full blown lies by now. “Not quite.”

 

“Will you tell me tomorrow, then?”

 

Elsa exhaled. “I will. Thank you,” she added softly, because she knew the delay could not be easy to tolerate. She could feel Anna’s impatience, the way Anna had to hold back the questions.

 

Anna sighed again. “I wish you could just talk to me, Elsa,” she said, the words etched with resignation. “It sometimes feels like we’ve forgotten how to speak to each other.”

 

That made Elsa’s throat close up and she had to take several seconds to come up with a suitable response. “Maybe we have,” she answered. She didn’t mean it to hurt; it just felt like the truth. Too long had passed.

 

“That’s not completely true, though,” Anna protested. “We can still talk about some things.”

 

“Some,” Elsa agreed. She tried for humor, feeling like someone throwing a dart while blindfolded. “Are you going to say that I was right and the courtship idea had some merit?”

 

Anna stole a glance at her, a smile ghosting over her lips. “If I do, will you say ‘I told you so?’”

 

That got Elsa’s attention. Her jaw was already open before she could control her features. “Are you serious? After what you did this morning?”

 

Anna at least had the grace to blush. “What? It’s not my fault! It was—it was the way you looked at me!”

 

Elsa stared at her.

 

“Okay, _not_ with that face,” Anna said, her face warming even more. The princess consort tried again. “I wasn’t really… thinking when that happened.”

 

Elsa stared some more. “Should this really surprise me anymore?” She wondered out loud.

 

“Elsa!” Anna squirmed in her saddle. She would be mature about this, she decided. Just like Elsa would be if she were in her place.

 

“ _Perhaps_ I was hasty,” Anna said in her best haughty voice. “Nonetheless, you’ll be confessing to the whole host of the things you’ve been keeping from me tomorrow and it won’t matter, will it?” At least Anna hoped so.

 

While her interest in dragging Elsa off to some dark corner had been muted in light of what she’d found out over the course of the day, Anna’s horrible attraction to Elsa was still there. Just looking at Elsa still made her heart turn over pleasantly in her chest because Elsa was just so damned beautiful, and it did not take much encouragement at all for her to remember how Elsa had kissed her in the library. Thoughts like these weren’t what friends entertained about each other. Perhaps that was really the heart of her confusion—she didn’t know what exactly they were.

 

On one level, they were friends, but there were more layers to their confusing relationship that Anna had no idea what to call or even how to describe. This strange tentative dance of theirs: friends one minute, almost lovers in the next, then strangers again— everything mixed up together and neither of them knowing how to act appropriately. Anna didn’t know what was the best way for them to just… reach each other. The fact that Elsa was apparently keeping secrets from her was not helping in the least.

 

Elsa turned her eyes back to the trail. “In a way, perhaps,” she said neutrally. In truth, she had no idea how it would change anything other than that Anna would know and could make a sound decision based upon all available facts. Which was only fair—laying all the cards on the table, so to speak. Anna had been playing half-blind, unaware of the rules, and Elsa knew she was partially to blame for that.

 

She didn’t quite want to admit that she was rather terrified of what Anna would decide. She had prepared for this; it wasn’t unexpected. But she still felt the tightness seeping into her body—it made her chest and belly cramp and her jaw ache from how hard it strained. She didn’t want to do it, but the right choices weren’t always the easy ones.

  

* * *

 

 

Upon arriving back at the castle, they separated to their respective rooms to dress for dinner.

 

In the King’s chambers, Elsa followed Anna’s advice and had a hot bath drawn. Her legs were shaky by the time she lowered herself in. There was a great deal of wincing as she maneuvered herself into a comfortable position.

 

A quarter hour later, there was more wincing and cursing as Elsa hobbled out of her bath, dried herself off and went into her closet. She was gingerly stepping into a conservative gray evening dress when Gerda appeared at the door.

 

“Ugh,” Elsa said as she straightened, tugging the bodice up. Her abdominal muscles had joined the rebellion, which she had discovered during her bath, and were attempting to make even dressing miserable for her. “Gerda, I may need your assistance.”

 

Her housekeeper sighed in the way that made Elsa feel small again. “Why didn’t your majesty call for a maid?”

 

“I must have been hoping you were lurking about. Lo and behold, you appeared. Like a witch’s familiar.”

 

Gerda’s brows climbed. “You seem to be in a poor mood,” she commented. The housekeeper held up the dress for Elsa to put her arms through the sleeve.

 

Elsa sighed. “I am very sore and even slight movement is not easy. Forgive my shortness.”

 

“Did you have a good day at least?” Gerda began to fasten the dress stays, her movements quick and efficient.

 

“Yes.” She could answer that question honestly now. “It was a good day. Riding and a picnic and a nap.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gerda. “Your matchmaking attempts are not appreciated, by the way. Wine and a sleeping roll?”

 

Gerda smiled smugly at her. “I knew you weren’t going to put it to use,” she informed Elsa. “I meant it as a suggestion.”

 

Was the suggestion to get drunk and sleep together? Elsa wondered. Going by Gerda’s face, then yes, it probably was and she was not going to dignify that with any kind of reaction.

 

“Marital night jitters are understandable,” Gerda said placidly.

 

“Oh, my god,” Elsa exclaimed, the meaning of the items confirmed. She wanted to sink through the floor. “Do not. Please,” she pleaded.

 

“Some people just need a little push in the right direction,” Gerda continued, undaunted, while Elsa groaned. “I wouldn’t have thought you and your wife would be spending your wedding night in separate rooms.”

 

“Gerda,” Elsa warned. “I do not wish to speak of it.”

 

The dress laced up, Gerda turned Elsa around to face her. “Whatever it is that is keeping you two apart, I hope you won’t allow it to drag on,” she said, tone firm.

 

Looking at Gerda now, though, Elsa was tempted to tell her. Tempted to unload her burdens and look to someone else for guidance, for reassurance, and perhaps for someone else to make the decisions that she was being faced with. Gerda had seen her at her lowest and dragged her back up when everything felt hopeless. But the sentiment was fleeting because Elsa had always been groomed to look to no one but herself. She wasn’t a child anymore.

 

Her spine stiffened and her chin went up. “I won’t.”

 

Gerda would have told her that she looked like her father, but the housekeeper didn’t think that kind of observation was necessary.

  

* * *

 

 

Dinner was a quiet affair. It was completely incongruous to the wreck that Elsa was inside. She had no appetite. Not even Anna sitting beside her could calm her nerves. They were seated similarly to their breakfast arrangement: Anna to Elsa’s right, Alice and Frederick further down the table across from each other.

 

“How was your ride today?” Alice asked. “I heard you two went off for a romantic picnic.”

 

“It was good,” Anna said with a sideways glance to Elsa, a smile on her face. “Wasn’t it, Elsa? Enough to go riding every morning?”

 

That was certainly an underhanded way to get her to go riding more often. Elsa gave the entire table a rather vague smile, simultaneously polite and noncommittal. “Perhaps.”

 

Anna studied her for a moment, but turned her eyes back to Alice and Frederick. “Did you do anything today, Mother?”

 

“Beyond the usual excitement of embroidering, reading and eavesdropping on the servant gossip?” Alice said drily.

 

Anna grinned at her mother. “Were you lurking behind a bookcase to overhear what the maids were saying?”

 

Alice sniffed. “Hardly, dear. I at least had the presence of mind to lurk from a strategic vantage point behind the settee. That thing is quite immense, the one adjoining our room? I would wager I could hide your horse behind it and no one would be any the wiser.”

 

Elsa sighed. “I hope you’re not actually eavesdropping on the servants, Aunt.” She could just imagine the uproar it’d throw the maids into if they were aware that a certain guest actually  lurked behind settees and bookshelves.

 

“She doesn’t,” Anna laughed. “Mother just likes to make the servants think she does so they watch their tongues.”

 

It was devious. Obviously Anna was more like her mother than anybody thought. “I presume this is effective if you’re inflicting it upon my staff?” Elsa said.

 

“I would assert that it is,” Alice replied. “The servants aren’t even surprised to see me anymore.”

 

Elsa didn’t know what to say to that ludicrous statement, so she turned her attention to her soup.

 

“I saw the new horses,” Frederick said. The king’s countenance had improved since the morning and he no longer appeared as though he’d like to drown himself in the nearest bucket. “A fine stable you’ve assembled there, Elsa. I like your new head groom as well.”

 

“Oh, aren’t they, Papa?” Anna breathed, excited to finally talk about the horses with someone knowledgeable in the subject. “They’re _gorgeous_. And from all these famous stables—” The conversation became inundated by observations of hooves and hocks and hands and Elsa could not listen to any of it without feeling entirely at sea. Her gaze wandered away and found, with a mild start, Alice’s gaze on her. Her mother-in-law watched Elsa steadily for a beat, then Alice smiled slightly and returned to her own plate.

 

Elsa was not sure what to make of that, but the footmen began serving the main course and she decided to put it out of her mind.

 

By the end of dinner as everybody was rising, Elsa somehow managed to say, in her steadiest voice, “Uncle, if I could have a word with you? In my study.”

 

Frederick gave her a questioning look, but nodded. Anna squeezed her hand, her smile sympathetic. “Are you going to be all right? You look like a suitor about to speak with Papa rather than my wife.”

 

Elsa swallowed. Anna had called her her wife. The feeling it evoked was rather like being flattened and simultaneously blessed. Elsa gathered herself up from the aftermath of the inadvertent havoc Anna had just wreaked on her and squeezed her hand back. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you,” she said, even though she couldn’t be sure if Anna had just made the impending talk better or worse.

 

Anna smiled again and trailed Alice out of the dining hall. Elsa exhaled and straightened her shoulders to lead Frederick to her study.

 

* * *

 

 

“Those horses were a wedding gift, eh?” Frederick said good-naturedly once Elsa had closed the door behind them. “Fine beasts, every one of them. You picked a good man, that O’Brien fellow.”

 

Should she invite him to sit? She couldn’t very well force her father-in-law to stand like a subject. He was her peer as well as officially family now, even if he’d always been uncle to her. What kind of tone for this meeting did she want to set? These thoughts ran through her mind lightning-quick, each point assessed and discarded. Finally, she decided to arrange them as she and Anna had been in the morning—across from each other as equals. Instead of the chairs before her desk, she gestured to the facing settees.

 

“If you would, Uncle?” She asked.

 

He settled his large frame into a plush cushion with a sigh. “Fine things, these are,” he commented. “This room does bring back memories. Your father always did have good taste.”

 

Elsa didn’t answer. Playing the role of host, she poured two glasses of water from a pitcher and placed the glasses on the low table before sitting across from Frederick. He did not appear to have noticed her silence and drank from the glass. “No scotch?” He asked hopefully, eyeing the small bar in a corner.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t like spirits,” Elsa said. She was not going to send for a servant to fetch any. “Uncle, I need to speak with you on a certain matter.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Was this going to be like their last talk in Corona? Elsa wondered. When she couldn’t find the right words, when exhaustion and grief had dogged her? No, she decided. It was not. With the strength borne from a wedding, a chess game, and a picnic, she pushed forward.

 

“The amendment. You didn’t tell Anna about the contract amendment.”

 

Frederick stared at her in astonishment. That was obviously the last thing he had expected her to say. He composed himself quickly, as expected of a king. His eyes, blue like Anna’s, were inscrutable as they gazed back at her.

 

 “Why would I have, Elsa?” He asked, voice soft. “I did not agree to the amendment. I did it at your urging.”

 

Was he trying to deflect blame? “She is your _daughter_.” Elsa’s voice turned hard and flinty. “She has a right to know.”

 

A muscle in Frederick’s cheek jumped as the air grew tense. She could see his fists clenching on his thighs.

 

“You do not speak to _me_ in my capacity as a father, girl,” Frederick growled, eyes flashing. Her own jaw tightened at the uttered slight. “I have only _ever_ looked for the best for my daughter. She deserves only the best that I can give her, though I find myself reconsidering certain decisions now.”

 

“You should have told her when the amendment was done. And now we are wed and she still doesn’t know.”

 

“Then _tell her_ ,” Frederick snapped. “It is your responsibility. You added that clause when there was never any reason to. _You_ came to me a year ago in secrecy like a damned thief in the night because you were too cowardly to face your own betrothed!” He growled, his face darkening with temper. “Elsa, my patience wears thin with how you have handled this entire betrothal. Your father would have been disappointed.”

 

That jab hit its target with stunning precision. Elsa felt herself flinch, her body recoiling at the rebuke.

 

 _Your father would have been disappointed_.

 

“I will do my duty and tell her,” Elsa finally managed to say. “I called you here to discuss the possibility of annulment should Anna wish it.”

 

Frederick stared at her, incredulity etched in every line of his body and countenance.

 

“ _Annulment?”_ He nearly bellowed the word at her, like an enraged bull. He roared to his feet and jabbed a finger at her as though he wished it were a sword to run her through with. “What is _wrong_ with you? You will do no such thing to my daughter!”

 

“I never said that I wanted it,” Elsa said carefully, as though she might very well break if she moved too suddenly. “It is if Anna wishes it.”

 

“Why the hell would she?”

 

“So her children, should she bear any, are not part of the line of succession. So they are not… so they will not leave. Like Kristoff.”

 

The mention of the king’s son had not been intended to hurt, but she saw the way Frederick’s face become shut off as abruptly as a slammed door. The temper seemed to drain out of the king, leaving his shoulders and head slumped. “Do not speak of my son,” he said, his voice hoarse with pain.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, because she truly was. “I bring it up only because I do not want Anna to endure the same.”

 

The king put his face into his hand. “Elsa, you may think you are doing what is best for Anna, but you are not. These things you ask for, perhaps you do not care for the consequences, but _annulment_? It could ruin Anna’s reputation, her name, and I will not allow—”

 

A knock sounded. Both turned their heads to look to the door as it opened. Elsa opened her mouth, ready to send the servant away until the words died in her mouth. It was Alice.

 

“I heard shouting,” Alice said. “Specifically, my husband shouting the word ‘annulment.’” Her brows went up. “I thought I should investigate. Especially if that word is being tossed about in a conversation between my husband and my recently wedded daughter-in-law.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Elsa and Frederick said in unison. They glanced at each other.

 

Alice’s eyes rolled. “You might as well tell me now before it comes out in the most embarrassing way possible,” she suggested. “I would remind you, Frederick, that anything involving our children falls under my jurisdiction as well.”

 

Still standing, Frederick folded his arms over his chest and appeared distinctly disgruntled. “Elsa wants my consent to annul the marriage.”

 

“If Anna wants it,” Elsa said. She didn’t want to talk to both of them, but could see no way out of it. “Then I will give my consent to annul the marriage.”

 

Alice stared at Elsa. She shut the door behind herself and when she spoke, her voice was steady, calm. Like just before a storm. “Why would Anna want an annulment?”

 

“For her children, in case she does not want them in the line of succession—”

 

Alice held up a hand to stop her. “Elsa, I appear to be unaware of something crucial. Why would you be worried about her _children_? Are you not going to adopt?”

 

Elsa opened her mouth, and realized at the same moment as Frederick started to speak. “Does she not know—”

 

“Alice, the marriage contract—” He stopped, then sighed. “No. She doesn’t. I haven’t told anyone of the amendment,” he told Elsa.

 

“This is all very cryptic and I grow weary of the secrecy,” Alice said. “What do I not know?”

 

Frederick gave Elsa a meaningful look. Elsa took the hint.

 

“My father removed a clause regarding male companions for the sake of children,” Elsa answered. “I requested that it be placed back.”

 

Alice’s eyes turned back to her husband. “Going by the turn of this conversation, you agreed to this, Frederick, did you not?” Her tone was sharp. Frederick hesitated, then nodded once.

 

“You _fool_.” Alice was visibly furious. Both Elsa and Frederick started and gave Alice wide-eyed stares. “Why would you agree to such a thing?”

 

“Aunt, it was at my insistence,” Elsa started, alarmed. “I pushed to have it included.”

 

“Of course it would be you,” Alice snapped. “You are _exactly_ like your parents.” But the way she said it made it sound as though it were an egregious character flaw. Elsa wanted to cringe under that hard stare, a feeling that she had not experienced in years. “Frederick, I will speak with you later.” The king was startled at the dismissal, but after another heated glance from Alice, he sighed and wordlessly took his leave. Alice took his place on the settee, folding her hands in her lap.

 

Elsa still felt like a scolded puppy under her mother-in-law’s eyes. She was abruptly aware that Alice was her elder and demanded respect. “Aunt,” she tried.

 

“It’s like watching history repeat itself,” Alice said without preamble. “I find it most distressing to witness it unfolding before my very eyes.”

 

Of course, none of that made any sense to Elsa. “I don’t understand,” Elsa said, feeling vaguely apologetic and confused. “What does—what does that have anything to do with annulment?”

 

Alice took a deep breath. “I presume you had the contract amended out of some misguided belief that Arendelle needs an heir?”

 

“It’s not misguided!” Elsa protested. “Arendelle does need an heir.” She didn’t need to say that she couldn’t be the one to do it—her powers were an unavoidable issue.

 

“And you intend for Anna to take a male lover and breed one?”

 

Elsa flinched. “Breed” made it sound so… clinical. “Yes,” she said. “But Anna should also be given the chance to have her own children. It’s not only for the sake of Arendelle. I… I want to give Anna choices,” she continued, her voice soft. “This marriage was not a choice for her.”

 

At that, Alice’s expression softened. “Elsa, why did you go through with the betrothal, then?”

 

She knew Alice meant that once her parents had died, she could have broken off the engagement. Frederick and Alice would have allowed it and no one would have stopped her. “My father wanted me to marry Anna,” she said. “It was one of his last wishes.”

 

Alice didn’t answer and by the way her mother-in-law looked at her, Elsa knew she was aware that that wasn’t the entire truth. Because the entire truth was that Elsa had not been able to let go of that one dream she’d wanted most out of all the things she’d wanted in her life—to prove to her father she was worthy, to be an able and just queen, to never disappoint. All of those things she aspired to were qualities any royal heir _should_ want. But marrying another woman was not one of them, not when the heir was a woman as well.

 

She had wanted Anna so much that she would place Arendelle’s future in jeopardy and had willfully taken away Anna’s choice in marriage. And since Anna’s own feelings on duty had recently been brought to light, it was even more important that she give Anna choices. The fact that things had gotten this far before she could give Anna the right to choose was just another weight on her back and she felt undeserving for the gift that Anna was to her. She needed to do her part to fix everything.

 

“Do you know why your father arranged the marriage, Elsa?”

 

That surprised a mirthless laugh out of her. “No. No, I don’t. I thought I would have more time to ask, but of course—” She didn’t even bother to finish the thought.

 

“Do you know why your parents married, then?”

 

Elsa frowned at Alice. It was a strange question, one that she had never really considered. “I imagine because they loved each other?” She answered, tentative. Her parents had never spoken much of their pasts aside from impersonal family histories that her tutor could have told her. “Why?”

 

Alice’s face remained inscrutable as a sphinx’s. “Well, I suppose it’s to be expected they would not have told you details of their marriage. It wasn’t exactly… proper.”

 

She suddenly felt uneasy about where the current conversation track was heading. Whatever it was, the phrase “not proper” never boded well. Did she _want_ to know? This was her parents’ past, and one they’d obviously never seen fit to make her privy to.

 

“When Alexander was much younger, just a bit older than you now, he wasn’t… He was quite different then.” Alice frowned a little. “I suppose one couldn’t fault him for that. He was like several young men who had wealth and influence. He’d already been crowned king and needed a queen.”

 

There was something familiar in this story now, like a nudge in the right direction. “I recall… this is the reason why the Duke of Weselton dislikes Arendelle, isn’t it?” Elsa’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “My father had mentioned this once when we were meeting the duke for an appointment. He said… he’d once been expected to marry Weselton’s daughter, but had married my mother instead. And the duke had not taken kindly to the rebuff, but Weselton’s fortunes relied on Arendelle and he could not break ties.”

 

Alice nodded. “That’s right. There were not very many choices available at the time and Weselton’s daughter was the most… let’s say she was the most suitable choice. As far as I can recall, Lady Olivia was not objectionable in any way. Quiet, pretty, though having Weselton as father-in-law, well, that would be a trial on its own, but her dowry was immense.” Alice’s brown eyes, Kristoff’s eyes, began to unfocus a little as she reminisced. “Weselton was set on marrying Lady Olivia into royalty and joining his wealth with Arendelle’s. Greedy little man.” 

 

Elsa privately concurred with her mother-in-law’s assessment of the old duke; she had not liked him in what few meetings she’d attended with her father.

 

“In any case, he set Lady Olivia to attract Alexander and just about everyone expected him to marry her. There was just no reason not to. The marriage would have benefitted both Arendelle and Weselton.”

 

“Then my father met my mother?”

 

“Then he met Marina, yes,” Alice affirmed. “We were all gathered in Corona and Alexander met Marina there. You know your mother’s family history. Her father was a baron, not particularly wealthy or well-known, but… I suppose I shall have to repeat the same adjective. Marina was not objectionable either, but Lady Olivia was much more suitable for a king. A baron does not compare to a duke, especially a rich and influential one.”

 

Elsa wondered where this tale was going, though it was distracting her from the subject of annulment. “So, why did he decide to marry my mother?”

 

“There was an affair,” Alice said bluntly.

 

Elsa blinked. Had she heard the words right? Had Alice just said—“What?”

 

“Your mother and father had an affair.”

 

“No,” Elsa said immediately, even though her father had never mentioned any such thing. But not mentioning didn’t mean it had never happened either, came the traitorous thought. “My father would never have done that, and neither would my mother. They—”

 

“Elsa.” Alice’s eyes were kind and understanding and it made her shut her mouth. “I was there when it happened. I saw the way they looked at each other. Marina confirmed it to me.”

 

“But why didn’t—why didn’t he just _marry_ her—” Elsa could feel the shock in her very bones. An _affair_? Good god. It was…it was… She didn’t know what to think. She felt like she’d just been walloped over the head with a heavy tome and had lost all of her wits. Her parents, her proper parents who didn’t look as though—she stopped the thought before she could regret it. It was a shock. There. It was just a great shock to think of her parents in… that way. It was an instinctive recoil any child would feel pondering their parents in even a vague sexual context. Elsa shuddered, mortified.

 

“I’m given to believe there was a great deal of passion involved,” Alice said, her tone bland in contrast to the stupefied state Elsa was languishing in. “Besides, you don’t need to be married to have sex, Elsa, really.” Alice sounded more amused than she had any right to be.

 

Elsa closed her eyes. “Aunt,” she warned. “I’m sorry if I was raised to believe that one shouldn’t… not until, that is…” Good god, maybe she was a prude. Anna would laugh at her.

 

Alice laughed. “Of course, it’s not proper, but people still do it. In any case, the affair went on for, oh, I don’t know, probably several weeks? I don’t think anybody had seen it at all, they were so discreet about it. Goodness, I was Marina’s best friend and I had barely caught on. Granted, Frederick was courting me at the time, so I confess that my attention may have been split.”

 

“They married soon after?” Elsa hoped they did. An affair. God.

 

“Oh, they did. But it wasn’t because they were found out or one of them finally gave in and asked. Your father got Marina with child.”

 

It was another shock, another assault on her brain with a large book. She didn’t even know what to say, simply staring at Marina while her jaw worked, no words emerging.

 

“Oh, my god,” Elsa finally managed. She couldn’t think of anything else that could adequately describe what Alice had just said other than to invoke a deity. An affair that had led to a pregnancy. _Oh, my god_.

 

“Quite,” Alice agreed. “And the only wise thing to do in that situation would be to wed. Your father asked then.”

 

“Oh. Good,” Elsa said, not really sure if it was good. Well, it had to be. Her father had to take responsibility for his actions. Of course it was good.

 

“Your mother refused.”

 

Elsa closed her eyes now. Nothing could shock her now, she thought. Nothing. “Why?”

 

“I believe your mother’s exact words were, ‘That bastard _ordered_ me to marry him.’”

 

That part actually sounded like her father, but still! Her mother was pregnant, for god’s sake, and ladies who found themselves pregnant were either quickly and discreetly married off or sequestered into some far-flung convent by their family. “So, it was a matter of pride?”

 

Alice nodded. “I think she was quite upset at the time. Upset and afraid, but she didn’t want to marry just because she had to. She…” Alice gave a soft laugh. “My god, I think she wanted true love. Even though she was on the brink of every kind of ruin a woman could face, she wanted that.”

 

“Was… did my father love her? Or my mother him?” She hoped dearly he did because with the way Alice was recounting the events, all they’d wanted was to go at it like animals.

 

“I think he did, but I don’t think he told her. But with the way the entire thing went on, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Marina had thrown the confession back in his face if he had told her. As for your mother… I think she did love him as well, but they were both so angry with each other, and with the situation.” Alice pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. “I don’t think they really knew one another. They couldn’t have known each other for more than a handful of balls and parties. And someone getting pregnant was hardly the best start.”

 

Elsa wanted to make an embarrassed sound, but she stifled it before it could come up. An affair and a pregnancy. It was all so… sordid. A word she would never have associated with her parents.

 

“The longer Marina refused him, the more desperate Alexander grew. He was determined to marry her and remove themselves from Corona,” Alice continued, looking a bit more composed. “I still remember how both of them became quite unbearable company with how they sniped at each other, or about each other, even in public. Of course, I couldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone, so I had to bear all these damned secrets in silence. I really had no idea what to do. To be honest, I wanted to slap the sense back into both of them.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said awkwardly, feeling strangely obligated to apologize for her parents’ poor conduct. Alice waved it off.

 

“Hardly your fault, dear. In any case, they eventually married, to the surprise of everyone. Weselton was furious, of course. But they wed quite quickly and the matter was closed. I can’t say it was a happy union, though. They both still looked like they’d have liked nothing more than to strangle each other, even at the private ceremony Alexander had arranged. Nonetheless, Alexander returned to Arendelle with Marina as his bride.”

 

Elsa breathed out. A somewhat happy ending, at least. “And I presume that I was the result of that?” She asked, bracing herself once again for more revelations.

 

Alice hesitated. “Not quite. The child… Marina, that is… There was a miscarriage. Marina was about three months or so along when it happened.”

 

Not a happy ending. Elsa could feel the blood draining out of her head, leaving her face disconcertingly numb. “Jesus.”

 

“Some women simply aren’t meant to have children,” Alice said, sorrow deepening the faint lines in her face. “And Marina was one of them. The loss was… it was a very deep blow. For both of them.”

 

It had to have been. It was the sole reason they’d married, going by what Alice had just said, unless her parents had finally found their wits and stopped hurting each other. God, the entire thing really was so sordid. Sordid and sad. Had anyone else told her this story, she would have laughed because it sounded so beneath the dignified people she remembered her parents as—but it all did have a distinctly human ring to it. Her parents were human as well. While Elsa didn’t know how she should really feel or think about it, she did know that her heart ached for the anguish they’d been dealt.

 

“Whatever enmity there was between them, that loss swept it away,” Alice continued. “It… united them. I do believe they were much better for it, as awful as the idea is. They tried again, of course, to have more children. There were more miscarriages.”

 

Elsa wanted to put her head down into her hands. Her heart ached more. More miscarriages. More tragedy. “How many?”

“I don’t know for sure. Enough to turn both of them into different people. But then they tried once more and that was you.” Alice breathed out. “They were beyond ecstatic, as you can imagine. I remember how cautiously hopeful they were once Marina was beyond four months. The doctors had said if she could carry the child to term by the fourth month, the likelihood of miscarriage lessened.”

 

She exhaled, deep and weary. “I was born two months premature.”

 

“Yes. And the royal physician advised your parents not to try anymore. Your mother’s health was quite weak at that point, to say nothing of the emotional pain she had endured already. Another could very well kill her.”

 

This time, Elsa did put the heels of her hands to her eyes, tilting her head back as she leaned against the settee. “My god.” But she realized she wasn’t the reason why there weren’t any more children. It wasn’t because of her powers, not because her parents feared that another child would inherit the same curse.

 

It wasn’t because of her.

 

The relief was so great, she was light-headed with it. It wasn’t her fault, but the catharsis was also bittersweet. Her mother had been rendered barren for it. Elsa could not imagine the pain her parents had endured.

 

“I wish they had told me,” Elsa finally said, her hands falling limply to her lap. “I understand why they hadn’t, but… I wish I had known.”

 

“It’s not something a parent tells their child,” Alice said gently. “Marina took the news very hard. She needed to produce a male heir and she felt that she had failed in that regard.”

 

Elsa flinched. It was a mirror of her current situation, almost.

 

“Alexander refused to attempt more. They loved each other very much at this point if Marina’s letters were anything to go by. But Marina knew her duty to Arendelle and… Well, she gave Alexander leave to take a mistress, to put it bluntly. For the sake of a son.”

 

She had to turn away, her face tight. She had no idea what to say to that, but her mother giving permission to… “I wish I had known,” she said instead, because her wits felt dull from the barrage of revelations.

 

“They would never have had any reason to tell you, Elsa,” Alice said, leaning over the low table to place a gentle hand over her knee in comfort. “As I said, this is not something any parent tells their child. And if it helps, I am the only one who knows of this. Not even Frederick is aware of the entire story. Marina told me everything in confidence.”

 

Elsa shuddered, as though she could not absorb the enormity of how much she did not know about her own family. So many secrets. “Did my father do it? Did he… did he…”

 

“No, of course not,” Alice said, withdrawing back to her seat. “But it was a difficult decision for them. Alexander was a much different man by then. He wasn’t anything like that man who’d carried on an affair with an unwed woman in Corona. This happened just a few years after their wedding and Alexander never told me his side of any of this, but he loved your mother very much. I think such a decision to consider, even for the sake of family legacy and royal duty, would have weighed heavily on him. Knowing your father, though… I think he’d have felt ashamed to have considered it in the first place. To consider hurting Marina more, after all they’d gone through.”

 

“I don’t know what to think of this.” Her elbows on her knees, Elsa dropped her face into her hands. She felt overwhelmed with the enormity of all the uncovered family secrets. “This is… this is too much. Why are you telling me this?”

 

Alice rose, rounded the low table and sat next to Elsa, wrapping a comforting arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Well, as I said, I find it distressing to see this happening again, and to the only child of my deceased friends. I am surprised, though, that your father never said why he wanted the betrothal. Did he truly say nothing about it?”

 

Elsa shook her head, face still buried in her palms. “No. He just said the matter was decided for the moment and we would speak more of it when I was older.” She had been sixteen at the time and hadn’t the courage to push.

 

Alice laughed, surprised. “Oh, that does sound like him. He never did lose all of his imperious manner.” Alice rubbed her hand along Elsa’s back in comfort, the gesture so motherly that Elsa wanted to cry. “Well, now you know. He and Marina were so unhappy at the beginning. They, well, they really were strangers to each other, and there were so many things that went wrong that it was a miracle that anything could be properly addressed. I must say, I learned a bit from them and made sure Frederick and I knew each other well before we went anywhere near an altar or bedroom,” Alice said, smiling more now.

 

“But I don’t understand—I never told anyone about—not about Anna—” Then she realized what she was saying and she clamped her mouth shut. She had never initiated conversation about her feelings for Anna. People always started talking about how she loved Anna, which was true, but there were different kinds of love and she’d been content to just let everybody assume what variety of it she felt—and most assumed friendship. She had never confirmed nor denied it because doing either would mean admitting out loud how she truly felt and leaving it ambiguous seemed like a sort of shield against that. A distance between truth and reality—truth of what she felt, and reality that those emotions wouldn’t ever really be returned.

 

“Well, I have no idea how much your father knew or how he found out, but I thought it was rather painfully obvious,” Alice said with a trace of humor. “You could never take your eyes off Anna when you were in the same room as her.”

 

Painfully obvious? _Painfully obvious?_ There was no way for her to confirm if she really had been that transparent. Evidently, everybody but herself and Anna knew. She would have prayed to let the floor swallow her up and send her straight to China if her mind wasn’t still reeling from a heady mix of relief, confusion, and shock.

 

“But Arendelle,” Elsa whispered. “My father always told me it was my duty to see to the future of the kingdom.”

 

“If you are referring to heirs, adoption solves that quite neatly.”

 

“No, inheritances can be invalidated,” Elsa protested. “They’re not as indisputable as bloodlines.”

 

“I thought your father took care of that.”

 

Elsa stared at Alice. “Took care of what?”

 

“The inheritance laws,” Alice said, blinking back at her. “Goodness, did Alexander really say nothing at all to you? I hadn’t meant that literally. He was working on strengthening the inheritance laws in favor of adopted family members. At least that’s what Marina had said to me before they passed.”

 

Elsa’s jaw was hanging embarrassingly wide open. Too many shocks. Far too many. She couldn’t handle all of them. She was only human, too. Her father had wanted her to be happy. He hadn’t decided to end the family line with her. He had wanted her to adopt. The clause removal wasn’t meant to prevent her from having children. She had never had siblings because her mother simply couldn’t bear more. And it wasn’t her fault.

 

It was a dream, Elsa decided. It had to be a dream. It couldn’t be real. She had married Anna yesterday and every burden she’d ever shouldered, every worry that she’d failed in some way, that she’d hurt her family somehow, just by existing, was all being swept away. It was either a dream or someone had slipped something into her coffee and she was experiencing an excellent hallucination.

 

“Elsa?” Came Alice’s voice, distant, but clear. “I understand this must come as a shock to you, but I tell you it now because you seem to be laboring under several false assumptions,” Alice said, rather unnecessarily, to Elsa’s mind. “You are very much like your mother and father. They thought you would be too dutiful.”

 

“Too dutiful?”

 

“Would you have ever married Anna otherwise?” Alice asked, kindly. “No, I didn’t think so,” she continued, the answer apparently written all over Elsa’s face. “You would have married someone else who was… more suitable. Too much like both of your parents with the rigid adherence to duty and martyrdom. Not your fault, of course, I imagine you just learned Alexander’s lessons too well.”

 

Could one learn a lesson too well? Elsa had always strived for excellence in everything she did, barring riding, because she was an exception by her gender alone. She needed to prove that she could be just as capable as a man, even if her father had never said she needed to.

 

“It wasn’t duty that made them have an affair, though,” Elsa muttered without thinking.

 

Alice laughed at that. “They were young back then. People change, as I’m sure you and Anna are discovering. You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you, dear, though you’re still the same in other ways. The self-sacrifice, for one.”

 

Elsa straightened and scrubbed her hands over her face. She felt exhausted again. “I wish I’d known all this,” she said again. “My father seemed to have counted on having more time to explain things to me. I’ve… acted and made decisions blindly, it seems.”

 

“Not your fault, dear.” Alice smiled. “We all do things thinking we have more time.”

 

“Thank you for telling me, Aunt,” Elsa said, quietly heartfelt. She was still a bit dazed, though. There was a great deal to mull over. Her head ached in anticipation of all the brooding she was probably going to do.

 

“Now, no more talk of annulment. Elsa, you _are_ allowed to be happy, you know,” Alice said firmly.

 

Elsa shifted uneasily. “That’s not quite the end of it. I… I still want to give that option to Anna. Even if I am… allowed, I still—I still took away Anna’s choice.”

 

“Anna agreed to the betrothal,” Alice said. “We did ask her before we accepted it.”

 

“She was hardly more than a girl then. Her feelings could have changed since then.”

 

“Have you asked her, then?”

 

Elsa swallowed. “Not yet. I told her I would tomorrow.”

 

“Then we’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?” Alice said, as though the matter was already settled. “My god, Elsa, you haven’t even told Anna of all these decisions you’re already trying to make. That’s hardly fair. And you should sleep, dear. You’ve had a long day.”

 

It was so motherly again, being comforted and told to rest. Elsa found herself missing her parents keenly and leaning into Alice just a little. She wasn’t going to be getting any sleep no matter how tired she felt.

 

“I’ll see you to your room,” Elsa said. She had started to rise when Alice stopped her.

 

“No, I’m not off yet,” Alice said. “I need to have a word with Frederick about allowing you to add that ridiculous amendment.”

 

“I really did push him,” Elsa said, straightening up to meet Alice’s eyes. “When I went to Corona. A year ago.”

 

Alice’s brows lifted. “You were in Corona? Was this a secret meeting?”

 

“Something like that. Please don’t mention it to Anna.” Frederick had been right—she had been too cowardly to face Anna then. She’d been worried that if she’d seen Anna that she might change her mind about… everything. “I’ll tell her everything tomorrow. You have my word.”

 

Alice nodded and brushed a hand over the top of Elsa’s head, just as she would her own child. “Then I’ll see myself out. Please don’t make the same mistakes your parents did when they were younger. It took them years to get out of it, and it was very difficult. _Talk_ to Anna.”

 

Elsa exhaled. “I will.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic for her help beta-ing this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Anna was pacing. She was probably wearing a nice tread into the carpet with how much she was pacing. Her eyes kept flitting to the clock that ticked away in a corner, as though the thing might eventually become useful instead of reminding her of how long she’d been there. Then she would glower at the door adjoining the Queen’s and King’s chambers, tamp down the urge to tap her foot, and return to pacing like a caged animal before repeating the ritual again.

 

She was actually feeling _anxious_. Anxious for Elsa. She had seen the way Elsa had looked at dinner: her face had been even paler than usual and she had been notably distracted. Anna had wanted to touch Elsa, perhaps try to calm her, but Elsa had looked so taut that Anna half-expected the queen might snap in two if she had tried. And of course, Elsa had not eaten enough at dinner again, which Anna could do nothing about; she could hardly kick Elsa under the table for it.

 

Anna sighed and rubbed at tired eyes. It was nearly midnight and she was waiting for the sound of the door opening in the King’s chamber. She had told herself it was because she was concerned about Elsa and that it was not to take advantage of the technicality of the meaning of “tomorrow”  to drag out everything Elsa was keeping from her.

 

No, she was just worried about Elsa. She really was. And Elsa had been gone for _hours_ , why wasn’t she back yet? Then it occurred to her that Elsa might be willfully overworking again instead of getting some needed rest, which sent a spurt of righteous anger up her chest because had Elsa not looked at herself in the mirror? Food and rest was what she needed, not reading over stupid business documents or worrying about what color the… whatever was. And who really cared about that? Couldn’t Elsa delegate that to someone else, like she had done with O’Brien and the horses? Such was the line of thoughts that flitted through Anna’s mind as she rushed back to her closet to dig out a night robe to go over her blue dinner dress, which she still hadn’t changed out of (because she had been waiting for Elsa, curse her, that was her fault, too).

 

At night, the castle was dark and even cooler than usual, so Anna found herself striding down a corridor bundled in a night robe, clutching a lit candle and battling inconvenient recollections of ghosts that allegedly roamed about. She was far too old for those kinds of stories, Anna thought stubbornly. Only a few of the sconces along the walls were still lit and the empty suits of armor that stood sentry didn’t look nearly as friendly in the shadows. It was far too easy to imagine eyes watching from behind helm visors or ghostly gazes on her back from above or behind. Goosebumps lined her arms and her heart quivered, but Anna mustered her courage and pressed on until she reached Elsa’s study.

 

“Elsa?” Her voice barely above a whisper. She tried knocking, which was a mistake, as the sound echoed down the hall and prompted chills down her spine. Anna couldn’t remember the castle ever being this ominous at night. She gave up on manners and shoved the door open, several unkind words at the ready.

 

The study was dark and empty. Anna peered into the room, candle aloft. The desk was clear and the low table in between the facing settees clean except for two glasses of water. She was suffused with disappointment; she had no idea where else Elsa could be if not her study. It was far too late for a servant to still be up for her to ask, and her parents had already long retired. Perhaps the library?

 

She trudged to the library with unusual rapidity amidst more spine chills, her stocking-clad ankles not used to dealing with the drafts again. Anna cursed Elsa the entire way, alternating between reminding herself that ghosts didn’t exist and wondering where her earlier bravado had gone. Her bravery was in neat little tatters by the time she arrived at the library. Anna stuck her head through the door and sighed.  Empty and dark as well.

 

She could no longer bear it; the castle echoed menacingly and her heart could only withstand so much. Anna shut the door and fled to the fireplace to start a fire, nerves frayed enough that it took far longer than usual.

 

Pulling her robe tighter, Anna sat on one of the armchairs by the chessboard to watch the fire, drawing her legs up underneath herself. Her back was deliberately aimed at the unlit entrance of the library. Damn Elsa, Anna thought sourly. She could be anywhere and Anna was certainly not going to go trooping about calling for her like she was a lost dog.

 

While the room warmed, Anna idly picked up a black chess piece—the queen. Well, Elsa’s queen, the one Elsa had sacrificed during their game. Her thumb brushed over the crown, the marble cold against her palm. Anna reached across the board to take a white knight and held the pieces before her, one in each hand.

 

She studied them like they held the key to everything, including the universe. Weren’t metaphors supposed to work like that? And then some profound thing would become clear to her and she would be equipped with powerful knowledge to vanquish evil and confusing queens? Anna sighed and dropped her hands to her lap; she hadn’t the faintest clue. She was no closer to finding out what was going through Elsa’s mind. Tomorrow was tantalizingly close, but Anna still felt impatient to know _right now_. As though to mock her, a clock began to toll the twelfth hour steadily.

 

On the last toll, the room fell silent except for the crackle of the fire. She leaned her head back, eyes closed; she didn’t want to move. The armchair was comfortable and Elsa had disappeared into the bowels of the castle where Anna had no wish to follow, so she was just going to sit there and—

 

A pale hand came down on her shoulder.

 

Anna gave a ferocious shriek, eyes snapping open and hands flying up to shield her head.

 

Elsa winced, jerking back to avoid flailing arms. “Anna, stop that,” she ordered. “It’s me.”

 

“Elsa!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her heaving chest as though to keep her heart from galloping away from her. Her lungs burned from the rapid expulsion of air and terror. She twisted around in the armchair and stared up at the queen, still wild-eyed. “You _scared me_. What is _wrong_ with you?!” She shouted, her voice cracking. “I thought you were a gho—” She was going to say ghost, but just managed to stop herself.

 

Elsa wondered if her hearing was damaged from that unholy shriek Anna had loosed—like a banshee’s call, it was. She was tempted to snap her fingers about her ears to make sure they were still functioning properly—and had Anna just called her a ghost? Elsa was pale, certainly, but not that pale. “I saw light from under the door and thought someone had left a fire unattended in here,” Elsa explained. “I thought you were asleep. Didn’t you hear me come in? And aren’t you a bit old for ghosts?”

 

“No!” Anna shouted again, her heart still racing. She wasn’t sure if she was saying no to the part about hearing Elsa come in or to being too old for ghosts. Probably both. “God, Elsa!”

 

“There is no need to address me in a raised voice,” Elsa answered, brow lifted. “I can hear you just fine, though that scream did leave my ears ringing.”

 

“I did not scream!” Her voice was still raised, but at least she wasn’t shouting. Barely.

 

“If you insist,” Elsa obliged. She glanced down at Anna’s clenched fists. “Were you planning on defending yourself from spectral intruders with… chess pieces?”

 

Anna thrust the pieces back to the board. “I was bored,” she muttered, petulant. “And where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

Elsa was still dressed in her dinner dress as well, a steaming mug of something that smelled delectably like chocolate in hand. Anna’s belly gave a rumble, drawing an amused glance from Elsa and a blush from its owner. The queen handed Anna the mug. “It’s hot chocolate,” she said, confirming Anna’s guess.

 

Even though her mouth watered, Anna resisted. “But this is yours, I couldn’t—” But Elsa had already pressed the mug into her hands and was walking to the opposite armchair.

 

“It’s fine. It might settle your stomach,” Elsa said as she gingerly sat. “And you don’t have to drink all of it if you’re feeling guilty.”

 

Anna struggled with herself for a pitifully short moment before taking a sip, sighing softly. It was very good hot chocolate, dark and sweet. She sipped again, wrapping her hands around the warm mug as the chocolate drove the cold away. Elsa had given it to her so willingly and easily even though she couldn’t have expected to find company anywhere; she knew Elsa liked chocolate as much as she did. Over the mug, she discreetly studied Elsa; she did look better than she had during dinner. Her face was relaxed and not nearly so pale and drawn. Even Elsa’s eyes looked improved, the dark blue clear and unshadowed. “Did your talk with Papa go well?”

 

Elsa looked at her sharply. “Did your father indicate that?” She asked.

 

Anna’s brows climbed. “I haven’t spoken to either of my parents after dinner.” She wondered if she could pry out the details from her papa now if Elsa wasn’t going to be forthcoming about it.

 

“Ah.” Elsa looked away. “With your father, no. I wouldn’t say it had gone well.”

 

“Oh.” Anna looked down at the chocolate and held it out to Elsa. “You can have it back,” she offered magnanimously. Obviously Elsa needed it more, she thought, with only a trace of regret, given the treasure she was relinquishing. Elsa took the mug with a faint smile and sipped.

 

“I’ll probably have to apologize to him tomorrow,” Elsa continued, voice soft. “I think I may have provoked him. No,” she corrected. “I did. I didn’t handle that meeting well, I’m afraid.”

 

“Oh.” That was certainly interesting; she had never heard of Elsa fighting with her parents. “I’m sorry. If it helps, Papa does forgive easily. What did you say to him?” Anna asked, curious.

 

“Uncomplimentary things,” Elsa said, and did not elaborate on what those “uncomplimentary things” were.

 

They went quiet. Elsa continued to savor the hot chocolate, her expression pensive.

 

Anna was almost bursting to ask more questions, fidgeting and shifting unsubtly until Elsa finally looked at her. “You’ll wear a hole in the upholstery if you keep that up,” she said, the words teasing.

 

“It’s tomorrow,” Anna blurted out. “You said you’d tell me everything tomorrow.”

 

“Ah,” Elsa said again, unsurprised. “Is that why you’re still up and wandering about?”

 

“Well, I was waiting for you to come back to your room,” Anna sniffed. “I decided waiting wasn’t worth it.”

 

“You looked quite comfortable when I came upon you.”

 

“I checked your study and then came here. I didn’t know where else to look. Where were you anyway?”

 

Elsa held up the mug. “In the kitchens for this.”

 

“You know how to make hot chocolate?” Anna asked, surprised.

 

Elsa gave her an arch look. “I am not entirely helpless, you know. I do not need to call a servant to cater to my every whim.”

 

“Well, it is your job to order everybody about and since you do it so well…” Anna trailed off with a grin. She had noticed that Elsa had not expounded on where she was prior to that, a fact that Anna filed away. Nobody took _hours_ to make hot chocolate, even if it was heavenly.

 

“Being inundated by gold and tyrannical power does not make me impervious to practical skills,” Elsa answered, a slight smile softening the caustic tone. “If you’ll recall, you are a member of royalty as well. Do _you_ know how to make hot chocolate?”

 

Anna had to laugh. Only Elsa could make being wealthy sound like an insult. “Of course I do. Not as good as this, though. You’ll have to show me how.”

 

Elsa made a vague noise of agreement. She took the queen and knight pieces Anna had hastily placed back on the board and returned them to their rightful places. They were on the opposite sides of where they’d sat the last time they were here, Elsa by white and Anna by black.

 

“So…” Anna started, deliberately trailing off again. “It’s tomorrow.”

 

Elsa glanced at the clock. “It’s five minutes past midnight.”

 

“It’s technically still tomorrow,” Anna insisted.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of waking hours, Anna. Also known as business hours.”

 

Anna huffed. “We’re awake. Daylight’s just a few hours from now. What’s the difference of a few hours? Are things going to be magically different between now and then?”

 

“Well, I was hoping to get some sleep.”

 

Anna narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Elsa. “Were you really?”

 

“No,” Elsa admitted, surprising both of them. She seemed to debate with herself before answering. “Your mother… told me a great deal tonight. About my parents. I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep after what she told me.”

 

The subject of Elsa’s parents was still a delicate issue, and one that Anna wasn’t quite sure how she ought to treat. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked cautiously. Even though she was almost writhing with curiosity, she knew better than to try to cajole it out of Elsa.

 

“I’m not sure. Eventually, perhaps,” she said, then turned her eyes to the chessboard.

 

“Eventually” was much better than an indefinite or absolute “no,” so she settled for that. “You look better, though,” Anna remarked.

 

“Do I?”

 

“Better than you did at dinner.” She stifled a yawn. The late hour and the comfort of hot chocolate and conversation was lulling. In spite of her fondness for riding, she hadn’t done much of it in the weeks leading up to the wedding and today’s ride had reminded her body of that. She would probably be sore the next day.

 

Elsa smiled at her, the look on her face almost… tender? Anna couldn’t be sure. Her eyelids were not cooperating.

 

“You’re tired,” Elsa said. “You should sleep.”

 

“Mm. I’m fine. If the sky’s awake…” She waved a hand. They both knew that particular adage well.

 

“The sky is hardly awake. The moon is barely out tonight.”

 

“So that’s why everything was so dark.” Anna realized too late what she had just uttered out loud and reddened. She could feel Elsa’s eyes on her and knew what the queen was going to say. 

 

“Afraid of the dark and ghosts still?”

 

“Shh,” Anna hushed. “I am not. I may have just… gotten a little spooked. I haven’t snuck around the castle at night in ages.” She was curled up rather cozily in the armchair and was feeling quite drowsy. It was apparently her turn to fall asleep in front of company. She yawned again.

 

Elsa rose, leaving the hot chocolate by the board, and offered a hand to Anna. “Come on. Off to bed.” Her voice was soft, as though she were speaking to a child.

 

Anna sighed. “I really did want to find out now about what you were… you know.”

 

“Yes, you even waited up past your bedtime for me.”

 

“Well, if we shared the room, I’d just be waiting in bed for you and not being scared witless.” Anna tried to inject coyness into that, but the effect was ruined by the clumsy way she toddled off the armchair, her hand grasping Elsa’s. Elsa wasn’t wearing gloves, she realized. This was startling enough that she bumped her foot against the table, stumbled, and nearly sent her face crashing into Elsa’s cleavage. Elsa’s other hand caught her shoulder to prevent the collision. 

 

“Graceful as ever,” Elsa said while Anna righted herself.

 

“Shh,” Anna said again. She didn’t let go of Elsa’s hand. It was quite warm, probably from the hot chocolate. “You’re not wearing gloves,” she said, a little wide-eyed. 

 

Elsa glanced down at their hands. “Mm, so I’m not,” she said, her tone bland. “Do you plan on availing yourself of this rare opportunity?” Now her tone dripped with irony. Anna stuck her tongue at her childishly.

 

“I think I would prefer to sleep, actually. Wait, what about a candle?” She asked when Elsa made to leave. The fire had died down enough that it didn’t need to be put out.

 

“It’s not that dark, Anna. And I know the way to my own room,” Elsa said. “If you’re worried about getting lost, then I can lead you back as well.” Anna could hear the smile in her voice and was glad Elsa couldn’t see her blush.

 

They left the library, footsteps echoing down the dark corridor. Well, the footsteps echoing, Anna soon realized, were her own; Elsa walked as quietly as a cat. Elsa’s presence was comforting—Anna’s imagination was still teeming with ghosts and phantoms, but at least with Elsa there she didn’t feel quite so alone. By the time they came to Elsa’s door, Anna was contemplating schemes rather than otherworldly visitors.

 

“You can go through the adjoining door to your room,” Elsa said as they crossed the threshold.

 

Anna still didn’t let go of the queen’s hand. Elsa glanced at her. “Be brave, little knight,” the queen said with a smile. Anna’s eyes almost rolled; of course Elsa would make a reference to Joan of Arc just to tease her. “At least you won’t have to venture down the hallway by yourself.”

 

Anna held fast. “Elsa, I want to sleep with you.” She could feel surprise jump through Elsa’s hand and up her arm. Elsa maintained her composure, but she did frown at Anna. The only light was from a lone lit sconce from the hall that fell through the open door.

 

“We’ve talked about this,” Elsa started to say.

 

“Like when we were children, I mean. Remember? We used to share rooms when I was here. And sometimes we’d sleep in the same bed.” The walk in the dark with Elsa had brought back more memories, though Anna couldn’t be sure if that was what had prompted the sudden desire to sleep together again. “And I won’t molest you in your sleep,” Anna promised earnestly. “It’ll be completely platonic and chaste and whatever else you want to call it.”

 

Elsa didn’t answer—her only response was a quirked brow. Perhaps her argument was convincing. Ever the optimist, Anna decided to take her silence as a good sign.

 

“Besides, it’s to make sure you get some sleep, too,” she added with a bit of inspiration—that made the request a bit more benign. She really did just want to sleep without being alone. “You did say you weren’t going to get any sleep anyway. How do I know you didn’t plan on slinking off to wherever to—to decide what color the castle drapery should be?”

 

That bit of absurdity finally elicited a response. “To decide what color the drapery should be?’” Elsa repeated blankly, as though Anna had actually said, “To decide what color the fjord should be?”

 

There was just no way of salvaging that, so she nodded as though it were not patently ridiculous, though she imagined her pink cheeks gave her away somewhat. “Yes. So, I ought to be there with you and make sure you actually get some sleep.”

 

Elsa continued to stare at her. “I can’t tell if you’re addled or serious,” she concluded.

 

Probably a bit of both, but Anna didn’t let that deter her. “It’s just sleeping, Elsa. We won’t do anything anyway.” As though on cue, she yawned, but it was a genuine one. “I really am tired. I’d appreciate a warm body there with me.”

 

Elsa’s brows lifted at her choice of words.

 

“Friends can do that much, right?” Anna added, inspired again.

 

An eyebrow twitch later, Elsa exhaled. “Very well,” she said with a begrudging air, but there was a shadow of a smile over her lips. “I suppose you’ll want to change out of this, won’t you?” She gestured at Anna’s robe and dinner dress.

 

She had forgotten about her attire. Anna looked up at Elsa hopefully. The queen’s smile widened a bit more. “No, I won’t send you back to your room just to change. I’ll find something for you.”

 

Elsa went to her closet and came back with a simple white night gown.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything that’s particularly warm,” Elsa said apologetically.

 

Anna shook her head and took the offering. “It’s fine.” She went into the closet to change while Elsa started a fire.

 

Anna returned with her robe wrapped tightly around herself. “I don’t remember my room being this chilly,” she remarked.

 

Elsa rose and absentmindedly patted ash off her hands. “Your chambers have quite a few more tapestries to keep the cold out. They were… my mother’s.” Elsa cleared her throat as her eyes swept over Anna. The night robe hugged Anna’s figure better without the dinner dress and while she only felt fondness at the moment, she was still human and enjoyed the sight. Anna’s hair was loose down her back, the light from the fire burnishing the copper into a warm glow. “You know, you can go back to your room. I’m sure it is much warmer there.”

 

“Not unless you join me,” Anna countered. “And you’ve already started the fire here, so that seems like a waste of time.”

 

“Ah. Fine reasoning, your highness. I’ll take my leave, then.”

 

With Elsa gone, Anna looked about the expansive room. The walls and floor were wood paneled and mostly bare except for the thick rug beneath her feet. The window was a large triangle of glass, much like the one in her bedroom, with the heavy velvet drapes pulled back—the drapes were the only thing in the room she saw meant for keeping the cold at bay. She could see the barest glimmer of moonlight reflected on the fjord outside, the stray city lights just out of view from her vantage point.

 

The furniture was also sparse and undecorated, but clearly well-made and meant for royalty—a four-poster bed sat in the center, guarded by a pair of nightstands and a heavy oak chest at the foot. A mirror and dressing table with a wash basin were tucked on one side of the room, a small desk and chair on the other. It was nice, Anna thought, but it didn’t have quite the same warmth and coziness that Elsa’s study did. In fact, she might have mistaken the room for a guest suite, it was just so… empty. It made her wonder just how much time Elsa spent in here.

 

When Elsa returned clad in a similar night gown, a spare blanket in her arms, Anna was sitting upon the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and facing the fire. Elsa’s hair was also loose down her back. 

 

“Still haven’t changed your mind?”

 

Anna shook her head, chin resting on a knee through her robe. The room was getting warmer, but it was still a little odd to actually witness Elsa’s immunity to the cold. She knew Elsa would still feel warm to the touch in spite of the chill, like the cold was afraid of her.

 

They stayed like that for an awkward while, Elsa still clutching the blanket like a shield by the bed and Anna blinking owlishly at her. Then one of them broke the stilted atmosphere with an attempt at a smile and the other smiled back until they were both grinning at each other. Friends again, just like that. They both felt a little silly.

 

“Sleep now,” Elsa urged, giving Anna the blanket. “It’s late.”

 

Anna discarded her robe and hurriedly crawled under the covers. “It’s cold,” she hissed, shivering even with the extra blanket. “Elsa, hurry up and get in here.”

 

Elsa obliged, sliding under the covers and onto her side facing Anna. Anna immediately pressed herself against Elsa’s front, shoving a corner of the extra blanket toward Elsa. With a laugh—because Anna certainly did not need to share it—Elsa took the offering and righted the blanket until they were both comfortably ensconced underneath it.

 

“Your feet are like ice,” Elsa commented. With a faint wince because she was still sore, she managed to fit her arm in the space between Anna’s shoulder and neck. Copper hair draped over her arm and wrist, making her hand twitch. Elsa curled her other arm around Anna’s waist. They were pressed rather intimately close with only Anna’s arms separating them, but it still felt quite platonic.

 

Anna’s breath huffed out warm just below Elsa’s throat. “Then you shouldn’t mind,” she muttered, teeth chattering just a little.

 

“You’ve become thin-blooded in Corona,” Elsa said, her breath against Anna’s temple. “You always did take a few days to get used to the drafts if summer was a bit late in coming.”

 

“Your room is just freezing, Elsa,” Anna muttered, burrowing closer to the queen. “Is that fire still going?”

 

“Of course it is, which you’d see if you would pull the covers down from your head.”

 

“Too cold,” was her muffled response. Elsa smiled and rubbed a hand up and down Anna’s arm.

 

Eventually, the sheets warmed enough that Anna could peer out. Elsa’s back was to the light, casting her face in shadow. She looked peaceful lying there, tendrils of pale hair draped over her shoulder and falling over neck. Their eyes met and Anna felt just the faintest stir in the pit of her belly, a sort of tension, but she didn’t want to break the moment.

 

Elsa was in an admittedly strange mood. After Alice had left, she had thought she would stay in her study to ponder endlessly, but after a scant half hour of vigorous brooding, she had found herself stretched out on her back upon the settee. She had felt… not quite numb, but not in turmoil either.

 

While she had contemplated her ceiling plaster, breathing in and out slowly and evenly as her mother had taught her, one hand against the back of the settee and the other over her abdomen, Elsa came upon a different thought. Perhaps what she was feeling was closer to a marathon runner sighting the finish line after a grueling race—she was exhausted from the journey, but there was hope at the end of it. She just needed to push through the last stretch, force herself to press forward; that last stretch was finally telling Anna everything.

 

 _Fight for victory_ , her father had used to say. Elsa had sat up abruptly, her gaze aimed down between her knees, the heels of her hands digging into the edge of the seat cushions. Her body still hurt, but the pain seemed fitting for her marathon metaphor. Was this what her father had meant when he’d told her that, every time she’d lost a chess game? Even if her father had taught her good sportsmanship, all children eventually took poorly to being trounced. Was that his lesson, that even when all seemed lost, victory was still possible if she would only look for it? To not be bound by fate or self-doubt? She couldn’t be sure, but she preferred that lesson if it was what she thought it was.

 

She had promised she would do her best for Anna just after their wedding and she would keep her word. Her heart was heavy at the thought of Anna’s reaction to all of this, but that felt like penance for how poorly she had handled everything. Elsa had stood, tugged her gloves off, and examined her palms and fingers, flexing them slowly, over and over, before coming to a decision.

 

She had gone into that empty ballroom where no one was allowed with the expectation to remain there all night, but had left after only a few hours--she had ached too much from the afternoon ride. Then she’d went in search of coffee, but had impulsively chosen hot chocolate in light of her improved mood. She had intended to retreat into her study again, but she had found Anna in the library and it was like coming across unexpected treasure half-buried in sand, even if her ears had suffered for it. Powerful lungs, Anna had, that was certain. Finding Anna there, though, and knowing that Anna had been worried about her, had been heartening. Elsa had not realized just how alone she had felt until Anna was already there to drive it away. She had even given in to Anna’s request to sleep together, though she had played at being reluctant about it—hearing Anna’s varied and creative reasons for it had made the act worthwhile.

 

“Why weren’t you wearing the gloves?” Anna asked.

 

“I don’t always wear gloves to bed.”

 

“No, I meant before. You never take them off.”

 

Elsa considered how she wanted to approach the issue; her first reaction was to evade, which… was really an unworthy habit. Did she value Anna’s opinion enough to keep things from her? It was unfair to Anna, so she settled for truth.

 

“I was practicing,” Elsa said. “My powers.”

 

“Oh, I… that makes sense, I just thought you were… well, finished with that?” 

 

“Never,” Elsa said. “Though my control has not improved in some time. It seems to have plateaued. For now, it’s… good enough.” She hoped it would continue to be good enough—she didn’t want to imagine what would happen if it wasn’t good enough. But she had used them enough in the ballroom that she thought she would be safe without the gloves tonight. Anna would not be hurt.

 

As though to see for herself, Anna grasped Elsa’s hand and brought it up between their chests. Elsa closed her eyes briefly; her skin was now reacting to Anna, tingling where the younger woman touched, like an exposed nerve. She fought not to flex her hand, to keep it limp, and especially not to think about Anna’s mouth on it.

 

“You’re still so worried about your powers,” Anna said softly. “You’ve never hurt anyone before, right?”

 

“Luckily,” Elsa said. “A few close calls. You know that’s why I avoided going out much.”

 

She did know. “You’re safe. You’d never hurt anyone.”

 

“There have been close calls, Anna,” Elsa repeated. “One of which involved my father.”

 

Anna’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’ve never told me that story.” Which was just as well since Elsa did not relish recalling it. She never did with any of those near accidents.

 

“I’d prefer not to talk about that one right now,” Elsa said. “It was terrifying.” The incident had shaved a few years off her life.

 

Even if Elsa wasn’t telling, she had still voluntarily brought up her parents again, so Anna counted it as progress. She looked back down because Elsa really did have the most elegant hands Anna had ever seen. She could feel Elsa’s pulse under her thumb, steady and strong.

 

She wondered if Elsa would mind it very much if she kissed her hand.

 

To her disappointment, Elsa pulled her hand away. Elsa had seen Anna’s thoughts written all over her face and while it had made her own breath catch, they were not going to do that tonight. 

 

“Sleep,” Elsa said, deliberately pressing Anna’s face against her shoulder as though she were a child.

 

And for once, Anna actually listened to her. Anna’s breathing turned measured and slow and Elsa let the sound of it pull her into sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsa awoke on her back and with a soft weight pinning her down which, she soon saw, was Anna half on top of her. Anna’s head was resting on Elsa’s shoulder, her arm and leg haphazardly draped over the queen. The room was light enough that Elsa knew she’d woken late. She squinted at the clock. It read nine o’clock.

 

She blinked in shocked consternation. She had never slept this late into the day. Her eyes fell on Anna’s face, her copper hair, for once, not an unruly mess. Anna had probably slept deeply enough to not toss and turn in her sleep.

 

It was already unusual for Elsa to be the one to oversleep, but even more so that a maid had not come in to rouse them for breakfast. The servants never deviated from their scheduled assignments or Gerda would have their heads—the thought skidded to a halt as realization dawned.

 

Elsa closed her eyes again as her brain worked out how it had probably happened. A maid had likely shown up, seen that the bed contained two occupants rather than one, then discreetly exited and reported the new development to Gerda. Knowing Gerda, she had probably ordered that they not be disturbed. In all likelihood, the news that the queen and the princess consort had spent the evening together would have spread through the castle like wildfire; it was simply the nature of servants to know everything that transpired. Elsa wanted to groan. Then she glanced down at Anna again and the burgeoning embarrassment dissipated like smoke.

 

Anna looked so beautiful and adorable. Most of her was leaning on Elsa’s side and Elsa could just make out very soft snoring.

 

God. Anna snored. For some reason, this discovery made a very large grin split Elsa’s face, one that she would never have allowed anyone to see because she undoubtedly looked idiotic wearing it. Carefully, Elsa lifted her arm and brushed her hand over Anna’s hair.

 

“Anna,” Elsa murmured. “We have to get up. We’ve already missed breakfast.”

 

No response. She tried shaking Anna by the shoulder, but the princess consort did not deign to award her efforts with any kind of reaction. She attempted to push Anna off, but her back and abdomen objected strenuously enough to leave her gasping in agony and still prostrate. She had been right, the soreness had gotten worse.

 

Elsa tried to remember how exactly she used to remove Anna from bed. Her hand slid down from Anna’s shoulder and settled over Anna’s side—she wondered if this would still work. Elsa dug her fingers into the younger woman’s flank.

 

Anna gave a satisfying lurch and swatted the queen’s hand away sleepily. “Stoppit,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.

 

“Anna, wake up,” Elsa said. “I’m very sore and I can’t move with you on top of me.”

 

Anna’s answer to that was a snore. Elsa huffed and tickled her again. Anna batted harder at her that time.

 

“Goway,” Anna muttered into Elsa’s shoulder.

 

“I am attempting to, your highness,” Elsa informed her. “Roll over if you don’t want to get up, but _I_ need to get up.”

 

After a long moment, Anna’s eyes finally fluttered open. Anna blinked blearily at Elsa. “What time is it?”

 

Elsa glanced at the clock again. “Almost a quarter after nine. We’ve missed breakfast.”

 

Anna didn’t move. She had woken with lovely torpor weighing over her limbs, abetted by how warm and soft Elsa felt beneath her. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“I need to get up, Anna,” Elsa reminded her. “I have an appointment at ten o’clock.”

 

“Oh. The lawyers, was it?” Anna mumbled, her voice scratchy, and tried not to slide back into sleep. She could feel that her body was sore as well, though not nearly as sore as Elsa probably was, and that any movement would not be pleasant for either of them. “Is it very important?”

 

Elsa thought of the countess and her initial reaction was that it was not. Not if Anna wanted her to remain here. But Elsa had decided she needed to ask further about the inheritance laws her father had supposedly been in the midst of changing and that… she was not sure how she ought to feel once she confirmed it. “Not very. Do you want me to cancel it?”

 

Anna was tempted to say yes, but Elsa had responsibilities. “No, you shouldn’t cancel it.” Reluctantly, Anna sat up with a faint wince and stretched. “Ouch. How do you feel?”

 

“Like your horse trod all over me.” Gingerly, Elsa managed to sit up at the edge of the mattress, her feet sinking into the rug. “Speak to Gerda, I’m sure the kitchens will have something for you,” Elsa said as she carefully rose.

 

“What about you? You have to eat something.”

 

“Just have Gerda send up coffee,” Elsa said as she went to her closet, but she was pulled up short by a hand around her wrist. She looked back to find Anna behind her, a determined look on her face.

 

“You have to eat, Elsa,” Anna said. “Your appointment’s at ten, right? It won’t take long to change. You could have something small to eat while you wait. And then more afterward.”

 

Elsa’s eyebrows lifted at the firm tone. “I’ll be fine. I won’t faint during the meeting.”

 

“But you should still eat,” Anna insisted. “You want me to eat breakfast, too, right?”

 

The queen blinked, bewildered. “Well, yes, of course—”

 

“Why don’t we have breakfast together, then?”

 

“Anna, I don’t know how long the meeting will be,” Elsa said, taken aback by Anna’s forcefulness. “You should eat first. ”

 

Anna decided to switch tactics. “We can eat in your study. I’ll leave when the lawyers get there.”

 

Elsa opened her mouth, then reconsidered. After a long moment, she asked, quietly, “Do you want to be present for the meeting?”

 

It was Anna’s turn to be surprised. “I—I wouldn’t be bothering you? Well, I suppose you said it wasn’t important, so maybe not, um, are you sure, I mean, you don’t have—”

 

“Anna.” Elsa smiled, interrupting the ramble. “You wouldn’t be bothering me. I think… I think we should talk after the meeting. It’s about time.”

 

Anna’s heart jumped a bit—she had only been thinking of breakfast for Elsa. “Okay,” Anna said, softly. She was far more awake now, anticipation humming through her. “I’ll get ready and—wait, should I wear anything special for the meeting?”

 

Elsa shook her head, still smiling. “No, just wear whatever you like. Not the breeches,” Elsa added after a beat.

 

Anna grinned. “Too distracting?”

 

“Yes,” Elsa admitted, coloring faintly. She also didn’t want to share the vision that Anna was in those breeches with anyone else, servants notwithstanding. “Just a day dress would be fine. Call for a maid to have something brought up to my study and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

 

Anna nodded and they separated to ready themselves.

 

* * *

 

 

A tray was sent up to Elsa’s study. They ate on the settees, Elsa with coffee and Anna with tea. The low table wasn’t nearly tall enough for them to use, so plates were balanced on laps and hands. Neither would ever have dined so before company, but they were alone.

 

“Who are they, these lawyers?” Anna asked. She was sitting beside Elsa and glanced down at the queen’s plate—Elsa was almost done, she thought with approval. At least she was eating enough to make up for the lack of dinner. Elsa was back in another business-like blue dress and matching jacket, blonde hair concealed in a bun, and Anna in a dark green long-sleeved day dress, her own hair in customary twin braids.

 

“You’ve never met them, but they were my father’s attorneys. Holsen and Calhoun are the partners, and who we’re seeing today.”

 

“What do they do?”

 

“Mostly work regarding foreign investments, verifying details of proposals, drawing up contracts, that sort of thing. My father preferred a private source rather than appointing an official to do so.” Elsa did not know all of the details of what else the attorneys did, but her father had told her they were trustworthy, so she had retained them. There was more that they did, work that Elsa suspected was not entirely legal, especially when it came to information gathering. She imagined that was why her father preferred a hired source rather than a government official—to lessen the chance of receiving tainted information as well as to have greater control. Dismissing personal lawyers was far less conspicuous than the removal of a corrupt official.

 

“Why are you meeting them? Is it for those proposals you mentioned?”

 

Elsa hesitated. No more lies, she thought. “This may… upset you. But I don’t want to keep things from you. I asked them to find out more about the countess.”

 

Anna stiffened. She didn’t speak for a long moment. “Why?”

 

“She approached me regarding a company that Arendelle has invested in. I need to find out why and for whom she works.”

 

Anna breathed out. “Oh, that’s right. Business things.”

 

“She sent me a letter yesterday.” Elsa rose and went to her desk, returning with the letter and calling card, but the queen remained standing. “I would prefer if you would not… prevent me from my current plans in regards to her.”

 

“What? What do you plan on doing?” Whatever it was, Elsa looked forbidding and that never boded well.

 

“I’m not sure yet. It depends on what my lawyers find about her. Probably some form of ruin or another.”

 

Anna stared. “‘Some form of ruin or another,’” she repeated. “What— _why_?”

 

“She disrespected you,” Elsa said, eyes going cold. “And she did so through me. Publicly. At our wedding party.” Elsa’s gaze turned into a glare when she looked down at the letter. “And she had the audacity to taunt me with _this_. I will not be made a fool of, nor will I allow this kind of impertinence to continue. I will take care of her.”

 

To say that everything Elsa had just aired was alarming would be an understatement. It was another manifestation of Elsa the queen—tyrannical power indeed. “Elsa, I know the countess was inappropriate and I understand that you want to… take care of her,” Anna began, wide-eyed. “But… I don’t think that’s worth ruining someone’s life for.”

 

Elsa thrust the letter at Anna. “Read it.”

 

With a sigh, Anna skimmed the contents. “It sounds mild enough,” Anna said. “A little suggestive, maybe.”

 

“The French,” Elsa said through clenched teeth. “ _Connaissance_ is a euphemism for mistress, Anna.”

 

Anna blinked. “Oh. My French isn’t as good as yours,” she admitted. Anna did feel offended on Elsa’s behalf for receiving such a letter. If the countess was sitting before her, then Anna would have some words for her, none flattering, but still. Elsa wanted to do harm to her in some presumably serious way and that… Anna felt a little uneasy about. She was pleased by Elsa’s reaction to defend, but surely being inappropriate was not worth that kind of retaliation.

 

If Anna was being truly honest with herself, then yes, she was a little jealous still; the memory of the countess was still fresh, of how well matched Lady Charlotte and Elsa had looked next to each other. She sneezed.

 

“The damned thing is scented,” Elsa growled, and looked very irritated about it.

 

“Oh, that’s overdoing it,” Anna said with a small laugh. “But really, Elsa. You don’t… do you want anything to… ah...” She couldn’t even phrase it properly.

 

“Of course not,” Elsa snapped, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

 

It was another balm for Anna, though after all that had happened in between the party and today, she had not paid the countess much mind at all. Elsa had occupied her thoughts quite thoroughly.

 

“Then why not just leave it be? She’s hardly going to be in Arendelle long and you won’t see her outside of business meetings.” Anna hoped, anyway.

 

Elsa drew up to her full height, every inch the affronted ruler. “It doesn’t matter where I have to see her again. It matters that this _happened_.”

 

Anna could feel her eyebrows rising. “Elsa, are you saying you just want to punish her for the sake of it?”

 

Elsa only glared at her, but that was confirmation enough.  Anna sighed and handed the letter back. “That’s not very nice, Elsa.”

 

“I’m not a very nice person,” Elsa returned, tucking the letter into a leather folder.

 

“What? That’s not true. You’re always nice and—”

 

“You don’t know what I’ve done, Anna,” Elsa interjected. She stacked the empty plates back on the tray and carried it to the bar in the corner. “I’ve had to make some hard decisions that were not nice.”

 

That was more information that Anna secreted away for later—a glance at the clock showed that it was almost time for the meeting. “What should I do when they come?”

 

“You won’t have to do anything,” Elsa said. “You can ask questions during, of course. They’re my lawyers. I pay them to attend to me, so you won’t be offending anyone.” Elsa didn’t need to say who would be the wrong party in her mind if someone was to take offense.

 

A knock at the door prevented a response. “Your majesty.” It was Kai.

 

“Come in,” Elsa said, already on her feet. Anna rose to stand beside her.

 

Kai opened the door, his frame obscuring the two men behind him. “Your majesty, your highness.” He bowed. “Mr. Holsen and Mr. Calhoun have arrived.”

 

“See them in, please.” Kai stepped aside and retrieved the breakfast tray as the lawyers filed in.

 

Holsen was tall, trim and genteel. He was an older man, silver dusting his temples, his face clean-shaven and his dark hair carefully groomed. His attire, a tailored frock coat, dark cravat and white shirt, was equally neat and orderly.

 

Calhoun, on the other hand… Anna couldn’t describe him as anything but rather disreputable. He was a bit shorter in stature than Holsen, and younger. He had a full head of dark blond hair that looked as though he’d dragged a hand through it a few times and a hint of morning whiskers that had not been attended to very carefully with a razor. He was trim as well, but walked with a bit of a slouch and his suit was not as immaculate as his partner’s—the cravat and collar a bit crooked and the frock coat somewhat slept in. As the unusual pair bowed and was shown to the desk, Anna thought she caught the faint whiff of whiskey from Calhoun.

 

He looked nothing like a lawyer, Anna decided, her nose wrinkling faintly. And what was more shocking was that Elsa seemed to not react at all to his appearance.

 

Calhoun grinned, apparently catching Anna’s look as she sat down on a spare chair close to Elsa’s. “I beg pardon for my appearance, your highness,” he said cheerfully. “I was out a bit late catching up on some work.”

 

“Calhoun is dedicated,” Elsa said, her tone dry as the Sahara. “He delivers the same reason for the state of his appearance every time he graces me with the pleasure of his disheveled company. It relieves me to know the legal fees I pay are being put to such good use, if not for grooming and hygiene.”

 

Anna laughed, her guess confirmed—Elsa was used to Calhoun and didn’t mind the man. She decided that she liked him immediately.

 

“Congratulations are in order, your majesty,” Holsen began, a faint smile on his handsome face. “I wish you and Princess Anna a happy union.”

 

“What my good man said,” Calhoun agreed amiably, leaning back against his chair with some familiarity. Anna half expected him to kick his boot heels up on the desk, but he thankfully did not.

 

Elsa nodded in acknowledgment.

 

“You requested more information on Collier Company and the _Comtesse d’Artois_ ,” Holsen said. “Which would you prefer to hear first?”

 

“Collier Company,” Elsa said, her demeanor turning focused and serious.

 

“Unremarkable,” was Holsen’s assessment. “Your father made a sound decision in investing in the enterprise. According to the previous quarter’s report, it is still laying down new railroads and thus profits are not forthcoming yet, but it is with an expectation of profit within the next three years. As I see it, it can be considered successful, but likely no more so than any other railroad companies.”

 

“Have you brought the reports from the last two years?” Elsa said.

 

Holsen opened a briefcase and gave the queen a leaflet of parchment. While Elsa reviewed it, Anna leaned over to glance at the paper. More numbers, interspersed with large paragraphs that made no sense to her.

 

“Boring stuff,” Calhoun commented. Anna silently agreed while Elsa ignored him.

 

“I’m presuming there’s more to Collier Company that neither of us have access to at the moment,” Elsa finally said. The reports only confirmed what Holsen had said; Collier was unremarkable, though growing. “You’ve a man in Britain?”

 

“We do, your majesty,” Calhoun said. “Already sent word to do some checking up on what’s about at their home office. Should be hearing back before the week’s out.”

 

“Very well. The countess, please.”

 

“That one’s mine,” Calhoun said with a smirk. “Interesting lady, if I do say so myself. I _was_ actually working, you know.”

 

“Mm. Show me the fruits of your labor, then,” Elsa replied. Anna quietly marveled at the familiar way Calhoun spoke to her.

 

“She is actually French, but not noble-born. She was an actress.” Calhoun’s brows went up a bit suggestively. “Netted the _Comte d’Artois_. Did quite well, if I do say so myself, except Artois is beggared title. Deep in debt, estate residences in shambles. Not worth the paper the deed’s printed on, and on the edge of being forfeited to creditors.” Calhoun scratched his chin. “Not sure if the very fine Lady Charlotte knew about that part, but who doesn’t want to marry a _comte_?”

 

“Interesting,” Elsa said. “Where is the _comte_ now?”

 

“Dead. Knifed in a back alley over a gambling debt about five years ago if word’s right. Some nasty rumors that she did it, though I don’t think there’s any ground there for that.” Calhoun shrugged.

 

Both Elsa and Anna stiffened in surprise. “Well,” Elsa managed. “I wasn’t aware that she is a widow.”

 

“She’s made a bit of a name for herself,” Calhoun continued. “Far as I know, she packed up and left France the instant the _comte_ kicked the bucket, probably to lose the creditors and whoever else they owed a debt to. Not sure where she went off to, but she has a reputation for being… available for hire,” Calhoun finished delicately with a glance to Anna.

 

“My father-in-law claims she is a courtesan.”

 

“She does a bit more than that. I haven’t found out much yet, but she, ah, entertains. And sells secrets. Her services don’t come cheap,” Calhoun said.

 

Elsa scowled. “You found this all out in just a day? She can hardly be effective if she’s well-known.”

 

Calhoun chuckled. “I have my ways, but the _comtesse_ plies her trade in different social circles. She travels often and not everybody knows her reputation. Like fishing in different ponds.”

 

“Are you still looking for more on her?”

 

Calhoun nodded. “Only been a day, your majesty, but we’re still digging. I’ll have more in a few days.”

 

“Please do. She’s sent me correspondence. She appears to have been hired by someone interested in Collier Company.”

 

“Oh?” Holsen said. He took the letter and calling card. “How curious.”

 

“Could be legitimate,” Calhoun said, leaning over to read the letter. “Ah, look at that, she’s a character. I heard she does have a fine head for numbers and the like, so she’s worth her pay. That address looks familiar.” Calhoun took the calling card. “14 Ardvik Square. Isn’t that the Weselton estate?”

 

Elsa froze. “What?”

 

Holsen thought for a moment before nodding. “Why, I believe you’re right. That would be his grace’s estate here when he visits the city.”

 

Elsa wanted to kick something. She settled for biting down on her back teeth. “She’s being hosted by the Duke of Weselton?”

 

“Says so on the card,” Calhoun said. “I did hear she was staying with a nobleman, but his grace himself? That makes it more interesting.” Calhoun had a distinct gleam in his eye.

 

“That woman,” Elsa muttered. God, it was clever. Even if Elsa had refused to meet the countess, she would still need to because the damned woman was staying with the duke of all people. The duke’s presence was not only for the wedding, but also for the semi-annual meeting between Arendelle and Weselton to review the terms of the loans Weselton owed Arendelle. So no matter what Elsa decided, she would still need to deal with the woman.

 

“Do you think Weselton’s hired her?” Elsa asked, weary.

 

“Probably not,” Calhoun said, surprising her. “If he did, I don’t think he’d be hosting her.”

 

That did make sense. Elsa sighed. “All right. I think that’s… enough for today. Thank you for coming, gentlemen.” She started and realized she’d forgotten that Anna was present, she’d been so quiet. “Anna? Did you have any questions?”

 

Anna shook her head. She had barely been following what was going on and only knew that Elsa was annoyed that the countess was being hosted by the Duke of Weselton. She decided she’d rather ask Elsa about it later than in front of Holsen and Calhoun. “No, I don’t.”

 

Everybody rose. As the two men turned to leave, Elsa remembered. “Holsen, a moment.”

 

He turned back to the queen. “Your majesty?” Calhoun continued to the door to wait outside.

 

She needed to ask this, she knew. “You used to help my father draft legislation for adding or changing laws, is that correct?”

 

Holsen nodded. “It is.”

 

Elsa hesitated. “Did… did my father ever speak to you of changing inheritance laws? For when property or titles are passed down to adopted family members?”

 

Holsen blinked. “Why, yes, your majesty. Your father requested my assistance in such a matter, in fact. I’m afraid I don’t know if he ever completed it, though. This was just before his passing. I still have one of his drafts that he sent to me for review. I’m not aware if there is a more recent draft elsewhere.”

 

Elsa felt her legs go a little unsteady and she had to place her hand on the desk a bit to keep upright. Alice had been right. Her father had been working on changing the laws to favor adoption. “Could you… could you have a messenger bring it here? At your earliest convenience.”

 

Holsen nodded and bowed. “Of course, your majesty.” He took his leave, closing the door behind him.

 

Elsa stood motionlessly there for a while until Anna came up to her side and put a hand to her back. “Elsa? Are you all right?”

 

“Yes. I’m—I’m fine.” She touched her hand to her forehead, covering her eyes briefly, and exhaled. “Did I worry you?”

 

“Only a little. What was that about inheritance laws?” Anna asked, curious.

 

Elsa let her hand fall to her side. “I think we should have that talk now.”

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“I think we should have that talk now,” Elsa said.

 

Her heart jumped. Anna felt her body tense, just a little, with anticipation. _Finally_ , was her first and only thought. No more secrets, no more delays. On the third day of her marriage, she would finally know everything.

 

“Anna,” Elsa said, turning to face the princess consort. Elsa’s countenance was carefully neutral. “How strongly do you feel about adoption?”

 

That was unexpected. Anna frowned. “I… I thought that’s what we would be doing? Raising children together?” Except Anna really hadn’t considered that. She had known the fact in a sort of disaffected way, like the way she knew her hair color was red, but she hadn’t _really_ thought about what raising children with Elsa would be like. God, she would be a parent. _Both_ of them would be parents. The thought was both alarming and dizzying. What would Elsa be like as a parent?

 

“Do you want your own children? Children of your own blood?”

 

“I—I’m not sure,” Anna answered, her eyebrows rising. She was still distracted by the thought of children. Would Elsa be a tyrannical parent? Anna studied her, lips pursed. “Do you?”

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Want children of your own blood?”

 

Elsa blanched, which was quite the feat given her complexion. “No! I mean, that is… I hadn’t because…”

 

“I can’t,” Elsa blurted out. “I cannot have children. My powers.”

 

“What about them?”

 

“I might pass them on!” Elsa clenched her hands, posture rigid. 

 

What on earth were they discussing? Now all Anna could see was Elsa teaching a child—one who invariably looked just like Elsa, with platinum blonde hair, dark blue eyes and a solemn face—how to play chess and make hot chocolate. The image made her chest fill with warmth—it was so unexpected, so startling, but the longer it lingered in her mind, the more Anna just… wanted. Yearned, even. Elsa would make a lovely mother. She would not be harsh; Elsa would be wonderful and gentle and loving. Anna knew she would be.

 

“Does it matter? We’re married and we’ll adopt,” Anna said, smiling. She felt a twinge of regret that a miniature version of Elsa would not exist, so she cherished that image, holding it close to her heart as though it was her own child.

 

“Though I don’t see what could be so bad about passing your powers on. Your child would be lucky to have you to teach them to control them if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Elsa’s jaw worked; she was speechless and staring. “It’s a curse,” she finally managed. “It’s not—it’s not something anyone should want.”

 

“I know, Elsa, but that’s how _you_ see it. I’ve seen you make beautiful things with it.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. They can hurt. I told you, my father—” Elsa stopped and looked away.  “It doesn’t matter,” she repeated. “It’s neither here nor there. My powers—it’s not about that. Anna, if I told you that you could have children—your own flesh and blood—would you prefer it?”

 

What kind of question was _that_? Would she _prefer_ her children to be related to her? “I suppose,” Anna said, because she really had no idea how else to answer such a question. “Elsa, why are you asking me this? What does it matter? We’re going to adopt, aren’t we?”

 

Unless… Elsa didn’t want to. Somehow, that had not occurred to her at all. But that wasn’t true, Elsa had said on their wedding night that they would have a half-dozen children—well, Anna had said that, but Elsa hadn’t rejected the suggestion.

 

“You don’t have to,” Elsa said, going very, very still. “You don’t have to adopt.”

 

 _You_. Not _we_. For some reason, this was of tantamount importance, that particular word choice. They were standing behind Elsa’s desk, facing each other and within arm’s reach. Anna let the words roll about her brain, as though they were a puzzle and the key was hidden somewhere and needed to be rattled loose. Yet, it was no use no matter how hard she tried to solve it; the words made no sense. Elsa was addled from getting enough food and sleep for once, Anna decided. Like a starving man falling into a coma after dining on a feast.

 

“How is that?” Anna asked. 

 

Elsa swallowed. “Did your father talk to you about marriage contracts between two women? About heirs?”

 

Anna tilted her head. “I don’t remember him really talking about them in particular,” she said. “Papa just said it’d be like any other marriage. Why?”

 

“Adoptions can be invalidated. Blood heirs are preferred for that, as well as... various other reasons. There’s usually a specific clause that allows one woman to take a male companion—a lover. For a blood heir. The child produced would be the next to inherit.”

 

Anna frowned. “That sounds… pragmatic,” she managed. Suspicion and unease stole into her, made her mind freeze and her heart stutter. What was Elsa getting at? When anything came to Elsa, Anna knew she had to pay close attention to her and watch carefully, but Elsa looked like a statue, she was so still. It made Anna tense, as though bracing herself for a blow.

 

“It sounds rather awful, too,” Anna added, trying to keep the distaste out of her voice. “If it’s just for the sake of inheritance. But what does that have to do with us? Papa never said anything about that to me.”

 

“My father removed it from ours,” Elsa said.

 

Anna almost sighed in relief. She had not even realized that she had been expecting something awful to come out of Elsa’s mouth, even though Elsa had clearly been leading up to something.

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Anna said with a small laugh. “Because, well, that’s like… horse breeding. Getting with child for the sake of titles instead of—”

 

“I put it back, Anna.”

 

“—for love.” Then she stilled as the words were absorbed, like the strike she thought was not coming.

 

Well. There it was: the awful thing. The feeling it elicited was like having her legs kicked out from under her, or being thrown from her horse—a brief moment of weightlessness, her body untethered by gravity, and then an inglorious and bone-rattling crash to earth.

 

The atmosphere was fraught while Anna tried to regain her bearings. The room felt cold and the air thick—was that why she had difficulty breathing? It felt like her lungs were drawing desperately for air, but all that filled her throat was water.

 

“What?” Anna heard herself say, distantly.

 

Elsa’s eyes turned intense, the darkening blue bordering on black. “I put that clause back. For you.”

 

That word again. _You_. Why was Elsa using it? It didn’t sound right. It sounded as wrong as an uttered blasphemy, echoing through her very bones. Anna shook her head, as though there were cobwebs in her ears and she had misheard Elsa. Surely… “I don’t understand,” Anna managed. “You did it for me? _What_ did you do?”

 

“I thought my father was making a mistake when he arranged this betrothal, Anna. He never told me why he wanted us to marry. But I knew he removed that clause about heirs. I thought it was meant for me, that he did not want me to have children. But my not having children meant Arendelle would end. My family legacy would end with me.”

 

Elsa’s jaw tensed. “So I put the clause back for you. Any child of yours would be next in line to Arendelle.”

 

Anna stared. “For me,” she repeated, blankly. She made herself breathe and tried to reorient herself mentally, to process one thing at a time. “You… You’ve put in a clause where I can… I can...”

 

She wasn’t even sure she knew what she was saying. If Elsa said she could give birth to an heir, then that would mean she would need to have sex. With a man. And get pregnant. Outside of marriage. The feeling was not unlike a litany of tumbling boulders on her head, each one more stunning and heavy than the last.

 

It made her belly heave—every fiber of her being rebelled. She found all of it repellent. That wasn’t what a marriage was supposed to be. Anna was distantly aware that Elsa was speaking, but she had no wish to hear more.

 

“Being next in line is a heavy burden,” Elsa continued, her face inscrutable. “I would understand if that’s not what you want for your children.”

 

Because of Kristoff. It was odd, but nobody ever really knew what to say about Kristoff—the thought of him somehow felt like an oasis of calm in the storm of disbelief and confusion in Anna’s mind. She latched onto it desperately even though recollections of him were usually accompanied by sadness and regret. His absence was never really spoken of in polite company, other than that he was traveling and would be home “soon.” Even her parents were uncomfortable about the subject of her erstwhile brother.

 

“I realize now that the clause may trap a child into the line of succession, so I’ve… I am prepared to annul the marriage if you want it, Anna.”

 

“Annul the marriage,” she repeated dumbly. Did she want an annulment? Did she want to borne her own children? What kind of questions were these? Anna could feel her mind wanting to slide into the comfort of full blown hysteria—rational thought seemed completely impossible at that moment. It was as though her brain couldn’t even process the questions and could only repeat them like a half-wit or a parrot, the meaning not taking at all. No, that was wrong—the meaning was sinking in, but she was refusing it.

 

Elsa wanted to fidget, but she would not give in to the urge to acknowledge her unease. Anna was staring at her as though she had just confessed to committing a great crime, which... wasn’t terribly far from the truth. She had the overwhelming urge to drop to her knees and beg for forgiveness. A disconcerting feeling, that, especially when she had done all of it for Anna.

 

“Anna?” Elsa hazarded.

 

She blinked slowly at Elsa’s concerned face. Another long, fraught moment passed, and then Anna turned on her heel and began to walk away.

 

“Anna!” Elsa started and chased after her, stopping her with a hand around her forearm. “Anna, please, wait.”

 

Anna stopped, but Elsa couldn’t see her face. “Please talk to me,” she said, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice. “Tell me… tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, Anna, I swear it. Anything you ask.”

 

When Anna finally turned, her face was pale and drawn. It was enough to make Elsa immediately release her arm. “What I want?” Anna’s hands balled at her sides. “What _I_ want?”

 

Elsa took a quick step back. Anna was angry. Very angry.

 

“You keep going on about me, Elsa,” she said, her tone coiled and tight, like a viper. “About what _I_ want. And you’ve—you’ve made _decisions_. And you expect me to decide—” She stopped and breathed out sharply.

 

Elsa waited, suffering. She deserved anything and everything Anna threw at her.

 

“Exactly what kind of marriage did you _want_ us to have, Elsa?”

 

Elsa froze. She could feel her heart skitter to a halt as her palms became clammy under her gloves. She understood the words that made up the question; she knew what Anna was asking. The most alarming part of it was that she had had expectations of what kind of marriage it _would_ be, but not of what kind of marriage she had _wanted_.

 

Want had never really played a part in her mind—every decision she had made up to the wedding, Elsa realized, was in the hopes that Anna would willingly stay for as long as Elsa could keep her. It left her at an impasse: she simply could not answer.

 

Anna saw her silence exactly for what it was and knew. Her lips pressed together and her gaze turned into a glare. “Is this even a marriage?” Anna said, her voice a low, furious whisper. “Or was I another obligation for you to fulfill because your father wanted you to?”

 

“No.” She could manage that much, at least. “You’re not—not just an obligation to me, Anna,” Elsa said, quietly. “You were never just… duty.”

 

“Then why have you been treating our marriage like it is?” Anna demanded. “What have you been doing? All of this, I never even knew! Putting in some clause saying that I can—I can—” The thought of it still made her ill. “That I can breed an heir for you! Like I’m _cattle_.”

 

“You are not,” Elsa interjected. Her own words, thrown back at her—it certainly felt like she’d shot herself in the foot again. “You are not, you know I do not think that—”

 

“You certainly fooled me!” Anna shouted, her face flushing with ire. “Why else did you put that disgusting thing in there? I thought I was getting married, not being bred like a brood mare.”

 

Elsa flinched. “I didn’t put it there for heirs,” she said.

 

“Then tell me why! And don’t you dare lie to me anymore, Elsa!” Anna snapped, fury making her breathing sharp and quick. “You _will_ pay me the respect that I am due as your wife.”

 

“For if you wanted to marry some prince, Anna!” That had come out louder than she had intended, but the words were spilling out, the dam broken. “This marriage was arranged when you were still a child! You may have consented to it, but did you _actually_ want to marry me?”

 

“What about you, then?” Anna snapped back. “You were only sixteen when your father arranged it! Why didn’t _you_ marry some prince if you wanted an heir so badly? For your precious _legacy_?!”

 

“I told you it was because of my powers!” They were shouting at each other. Elsa rarely shouted—her father had taught her that raised voices were for people who could not win by reason and resorted to volume to get their way. In spite of that particularly well-learned lesson, Elsa could not keep her own voice from rising. “I didn’t spend my childhood reading endless fairy tales about princes and wanting to marry them, nor was I going to gainsay my own father about a decision he made!”

 

“I was a girl, of course I read fairy tales, Elsa! You read them _with_ me if you’d use your head for once and remember that!” Anna marched up to her and jabbed a finger at Elsa’s chest. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl. 

 

“What are you saying, then? That you married me because you were too afraid to tell your father that I was unsuitable? That you just went along with the idea because he told you so? Your father was a good king, but he wasn’t infallible. I thought you had a _spine_.”

 

That… was possibly the absolute worst barb Anna could have thrown at Elsa and they both knew it. The aforementioned spine stiffened and the ambient temperature dropped precipitously. Even through the long sleeves of Anna’s dress she could feel the chill acutely, but she would not take the words back or apologize. The gauntlet had been thrown and she was far too incensed to regret it. She deserved answers and if it meant tearing into Elsa for them, she would do it.

 

“Every choice I’ve made has been in your best interest,” Elsa said, her expression frigid and hard. “You have my apologies for how it has been handled, yes, but I made the best and most rational decision that I could at the time.”

 

“Without consulting me, without asking me anything! You’ve made decisions regarding my life like you still think I’m a helpless child! When did you even do all this? Was that why you needed to talk to Papa last night, for this clause? For the annulment?”

 

“Last night was for the annulment. The clause was added a year prior to the wedding.”

 

Anna made a noise of disbelief. “ _A year ago?_ ” She was so agitated that she had to turn away from Elsa and press the heel of her hand to her pounding temple. “You’ve been doing this since _a year ago_?” Her voice was turning shrill and it angered her more that Elsa had reduced her to it.

 

“Amendments to marriage contracts do need to be done before the actual ceremony, Anna.”

 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your subjects!” She spat with a dark scowl. “A year ago all I got from you was a stupid letter with barely anything written on it! What was it, ‘ _Let Arendelle and Corona join families.’_ You didn’t even bother addressing it to me, or sending anything else. It would have been nice for you to have, I don’t know, asked if I was alive or something to that effect!”

 

Elsa would have flinched at that since the blow was well-deserved, but she felt numb all over and couldn’t muster up even that. “Would that have made you happier?” She asked, knowing that there was a sneer in her voice that would not make anything better, but she needed to regain control of this line of questioning.

 

She rounded on Anna, using her height to deliberately look down at the younger woman. “If I’d… inquired about your health? Perhaps the state of the weather as well? Or would you have preferred if I’d asked about your engagement to Prince Hans of the Southern Isles?”

 

At that, Anna’s face paled. Elsa had succeeded in driving the conversation away from the truth that hovered over the tip of her tongue.

“Is that what this is about?” Anna asked. “About Hans?”

 

Elsa deliberately turned away and returned to her desk, her hand lingering over the locked drawer. She hated the way Anna said his name, because she could hear the familiarity in Anna’s voice and then felt furious at herself for feeling that way in the first place. Her face gave nothing away, so there was the barest comfort that Anna would not know.

 

“I’ve never met Prince Hans, so no, I would not say he in particular played any part in this,” Elsa said. Very calm, collected—perhaps she ought to aspire to theater as the _comtesse_ had. She even sounded politely dismissive.

 

“I know it was rude of me to not contact you after my parents died. Even years later, when the… appropriate amount of time had passed for mourning. But I did know about Prince Hans, yes. Didn’t you want to marry him?”

 

Anna’s hands flexed, like she’d like to take a riding crop to her. “I did, yes,” she replied coldly. They were both aiming to hurt each other now, and each blow was calculated and precise.

 

Very well, Elsa thought. Anna would learn about what she had married. Monsters didn’t always need powers to wound. Her insides felt sharp and jagged like broken ice shards, but Elsa did not react beyond a polite nod of acknowledgment.

 

“If you want him still, you can pursue him. He could give you children. Only the thirteenth in line, but the terms of our contract mean that your children would have all that Arendelle can offer. Your quarterly allowance would not be affected—it’s quite handsome, if I may offer my opinion. You and Hans could live very comfortably on it should he not be so… fortunate.” Elsa was subtly mocking the disparity in wealth between the Southern Isles and Arendelle, her tone affecting polished disinterest. It was petty and beneath Elsa to throw such an insult, Anna knew, and it spoke volumes.

 

Elsa was unrecognizable, a complete and utter stranger. Why was she saying these things? Was Elsa trying to drive them apart? She was trying to understand Elsa’s, trying to see beyond her anger and confusion to focus on the queen, but it was difficult when Elsa was being like this. “How did you even know about Hans? There was never an official engagement.”

 

If it was possible, Elsa’s eyes became even flatter and colder. “Did I find out a secret?” She asked softly, her voice caustically edged.

 

“Hardly,” Anna shot back. “Hans courted me properly and openly. When nobody even knew if the betrothal was going through.” _Thanks to you_.

 

Elsa’s lips curved into an ugly cutting smile that Anna imagined kings wore when traitors were publicly executed. She had heard the thinly veiled message. “He wasn’t the only one who courted you. I know about them, all those suitors. If you ever needed a reason to not want to be wed to me, this is one of them.”

 

Elsa unlocked the drawer and tossed a heavy packet of parchment on the desk. “Peruse at your leisure, your highness.”

 

She wanted to refuse initially, but curiosity won out. Anna approached the desk and picked up the first sheet. _Lord Simon Belfry,_ it read. _Third son of Viscount Belfry_. _Age 26. Most notable financial debt owed to Baron Callaway in the sum of approximately 12,500 pounds…_

 

Anna dropped the sheet immediately, hand shaking. A swept glance told her the others would read similar; she knew all of the names neatly written on each. They were all unmarried noblemen who’d been in Corona to court her once news had reached that Elsa’s father had died. Now they were names and faces attached to details such as debt, family allowance, residences, habits.

 

Slowly, her eyes lifted to look at Elsa. “What is this, Elsa? What—why do you have this?”

 

“I told you I’m not a nice person,” Elsa said, her tone still smooth, like the surface of a frozen lake. “If you thought what I had in mind for the _comtesse_ was a hint of something ugly, this should show you more.When my family was lost, it seemed the rest of the world thought I would not have any teeth or claws left. They thought I was not my father’s daughter. Do you know how my father would have repaid this kind of insolence if he were still alive?” Elsa tapped a finger on Simon Belfry’s history.

 

“He’d have purchased the debt Lord Belfry owed to his largest creditors,” Elsa said, as though she were reciting lines. “To hold power over him, because gold makes the world turn. Then he’d have wrung Lord Belfry dry, tormented him with collection agents, chased him from every country throughout the continent by spreading information of his whereabouts to anyone he owed a debt to until the young lord was beggared and pathetic. He’d have smeared his name as a gentleman and if Lord Belfry had others depending upon him, a family—well, you understand, I’m sure.”

 

She did understand. Anna swallowed, her mouth dry. “No,” she said. “Your father wasn’t that kind of man. He would not have—”

 

“You know very well he would have, Anna,” Elsa interrupted. “Do not make excuses for my father. I know what kind of man he was. I loved him, but I wasn’t blind to what he would do when someone disrespected the Arendelle name, though he called it… protecting our legacy. And you, he would have considered as very much part of Arendelle. He taught me the same, told me that I must be harder and more ruthless to maintain respect. You know this kind of information would have been child’s play for him to acquire.”

 

Holsen and Calhoun, Anna realized. Calhoun, the one who found out details about people. The gregarious, shabby man who’d just left this very office, had given Elsa this information, this… power.

 

“What does it matter?” Anna said, ashamed that her voice shook a little. “Unless you—God, did you—”

 

“No,” Elsa admitted. She glanced down at her desk. “Holsen and Calhoun gave me this because they knew my father would have wanted it. I’ve done nothing with it.” _Yet_. They both heard the threat like the sound of an unsheathed blade. It put a ball of ice in Anna’s belly, that sound.

 

“Well, that’s good,” Anna sighed, relieved in spite of the ambiguity. “See? You said yourself that your father would have done… something. But you haven’t.”

 

“I was in mourning, Anna,” Elsa said. “I was not… I was out of sorts for some time. I would have done something. Don’t try to make excuses for me. And if you don’t believe me, then we truly know nothing of each other.”

 

Anna didn’t know what she believed. In her memories, she saw Elsa as the tall, pale girl who’d worked so hard to please her father and was forever practicing to keep her powers under tight control. Elsa had never been particularly arrogant with the servants, though a bit distant, but she had always been warm when they spent time together. In the Elsa standing before her, Anna could see only shadows of that girl. The Elsa standing before her now was cold and regal and without mercy.

 

“But you didn’t, Elsa,” Anna insisted. “You didn’t do anything.”

 

“The point is that I would have, and the only reason I didn’t was to make sure if you did choose someone, I didn’t ruin your husband before you even got to the altar!” Elsa snapped, stepping away from the desk as though she couldn’t bear to be near Anna even with that barrier between them. “And yes, I considered breaking off the betrothal. If you had written to me and asked, I would have—I would have done so.”

 

Anna didn’t know what to say, but Elsa was not finished.

 

“Do you regret marrying me now, Anna?” Elsa said, her jaw aching from how hard she was clenching it. “I am my father’s daughter. I inherited parts of him that I am not proud of, but that is _who I am_. And this—” Elsa thrust out her hand, palm up, tearing the glove off in one jerky motion. Ice was already formed on the skin, ragged and sharp.

 

“This is the least of your worries, Anna,” Elsa hissed, crushing the frost into tiny crystals that dusted the air.

 

“I _know_ that you didn’t really want to marry me. That I’m… your friend. Your best friend.” Elsa couldn’t quite keep the derision out of her voice, but she was barely keeping herself together, so the slip could almost be excused. She donned the glove again in one motion.

 

“But I’m not marriage material. I’m the wrong sex, I’m the wrong person for you, I am the wrong everything. I’ve taken away your choices because—” _I wanted to be the right one for you, but I’m not; I never will be no matter what I do_. “—partly, my father did arrange this and I wanted to fulfill his last wish and because—” She grimaced.

 

“I wager I would not have minded marrying my… friend as well.”

 

The words thudded between them like a fallen guillotine. It should have been a consolation, the truth laid bare in the open, but it wasn’t, not by any means. Anna swallowed, shocked to her core by the depth of Elsa’s self-loathing and how everything had fallen apart so quickly.

 

“I hope you see what I mean now,” Elsa said, her eyes falling on to her desk. She gathered up the papers, stacked them into a neat pile. Weapons, they were, and needed to be handled with care. Just like her.

 

“I’ve given you choices. The amendment as well as annulment. You are not cattle. You are my wife. You are the Princess Consort of Arendelle and you…” Elsa smiled again. Anna had no idea how a smile could look so deadly. “You are free to choose. Clearly, you should be the one making the decisions now. I’ve botched all of the ones I’ve made so far, as you’ve seen.”

 

They stared at one another. Anna was white-faced. Elsa appeared coolly indifferent—a queen’s mask, impervious to judgment. Wholly cold and isolated. 

 

Anna very carefully exhaled. The sound was almost deafening and Elsa tensed, like she was readying to flee, or perhaps she was bracing herself. Anna went to the desk, measuring each step as if navigating a battlefield, then around and toward Elsa.

 

Elsa twitched and fought not to walk out the door as Anna had tried to earlier. She wanted very badly to bolt—she had thrown everything in Anna’s face, every part of herself that she could not bear to even look at and good _god_ , how could Anna stand to look at her? To even occupy the same room as her? Her parents and mother-in-law may have thought she was allowed to be happy, but she still had serious doubts about that when she considered the things Anna wasn’t aware of. They were things someone like Anna could hardly approve of.

 

“Elsa,” Anna said. “It sounds like you want me to hate you.”

 

“I don’t,” she replied steadily, though she did wonder about that herself. Her feelings on the matter were confusing as ever, but if Anna did hate her.. it did make things easier. More painful, but easier.

 

“But maybe you should. I’m not a saint, I’m not—good. But I am trying to—” Elsa’s eyes fell on the desk, the papers. “I am trying to think of the best for you.” That part was heartfelt. If she was anything, if she could feel anything, it was that.

 

“Because I’m your friend?” Anna asked, gently.

 

_Because I love you and I could not imagine forcing you to remain where you did not want to be._

 

She bit down on her back teeth; the truth had nearly sprung out of her frayed control. It strained against her hold, like a dog that had been chained up for too long. Elsa settled for not saying anything at all and allowing Anna to make what she would of that.

 

“I don’t hate you, Elsa,” Anna said, because that was true. “Even if you’ve… done these things,” she said, cautiously. She was referring to everything, even the disturbing documents laid out on the table. Even Elsa acting behind her back. “Would you look at me, please?”

 

Elsa looked.

 

“I do wish you had talked to me,” Anna said. She was feeling a bit calmer, the words coming out easier. The shock was still there, but its grip on her wasn’t nearly so strong now. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore when I let Hans court me.”

 

Elsa started. She opened her mouth, but Anna forestalled her response with a shake of her head. “No, let me finish, Elsa. I think it’s my turn to talk.”

 

Reluctantly, she complied.

 

“Your… information is right,” Anna said. “About all those suitors. I knew they didn’t really care about me, just that I was the princess. But I did… I did like all the attention. Feeling wanted, I suppose, even if most of them thought I had nothing but air between my ears.”

 

Elsa scowled deeply at that, but remained silent.

 

"None of them really _knew_ me, though." Anna glanced out the window because she could see the stables from it and that was a small comfort. They didn’t look like the ones in Corona, but it was soothing all the same. 

 

"I know we've changed, but at least... at least you knew me. I was more than just a pretty face  with a royal title to you because we were friends. _Are_ friends. And none of those suitors were my friends, Elsa."

 

Anna went to the window, unsure she could say what she wanted with Elsa's reaction in her view. "When your parents died, I know you couldn't have been in any position to write back, even though I thought maybe, because we were close at one point..."

 

"You know that had nothing to do with it, Anna.”

 

"I do." Anna crossed her arms and rubbed at her elbows to warm them. "And I think you're right that I wasn’t really sure of what I wanted when I was thirteen and Papa asked me about the betrothal. But I knew the difference between a fairy tale and reality, even then. I knew, Elsa," Anna repeated. "Joan of Arc was a hero for winning all those battles, then she got burned at the stake because the French king wouldn’t pay her ransom.”

 

Elsa closed her eyes for a moment. Of course Anna knew. Anna was idealistic, but she wasn’t blind to reality. 

 

“And I thought, I could be married to a complete stranger, someone I’d never met or barely knew. Or I could be married to my best friend and spend my life with her and that couldn’t be so bad, could it?”

 

“I’d have paid your ransom,” Elsa said, quietly.

 

Anna smiled in appreciation at the small jest, but it vanished again like a flame in the wind. “Those suitors flattered me and danced with me and did all the proper things even though Papa tried to warn them off. I never really considered any of them, I want you to know that.”

 

Elsa nodded once. Inside her chest, a knot loosened at the admission.

 

“But then a year passed after your parents died, then another was nearly upon us and I didn’t… I couldn’t be sure if you still wanted to marry me anymore. Even when I asked Papa, he… he couldn’t say. So, I thought, maybe I have a choice. Maybe I could choose now, and bring Papa along to the idea, even though I know he was hoping you’d send word soon. So, that’s when I chose Hans.”

 

Anna shifted and looked out. She could see Roma being exercised in a corral, the mare’s gait smooth and unhurried. “He was… kind of perfect, really. Handsome, funny, agreeable. He didn’t really say much about my interests or even his own, but I thought, well, he’s nice. I could love him. And he was a prince! And so very far from the throne.” Anna laughed softly. “That was actually what caught my attention. Thirteenth in line.”

 

Elsa frowned at Anna’s back. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Well, when I thought I was marrying you, I’d have been eighteen and your parents would still be alive,” Anna explained. “You’d have duties, but I’d just be your wife and I wouldn’t be doing much. But then they died and I wouldn’t just be your wife, I’d be queen—well, princess consort. You know what I mean.”

 

Elsa was still frowning, but nodded. “You would be taking on more duties, you mean, since I would be on the throne.”

 

“Yes. Hans was a prince and I thought him being one might make Papa like him a bit more. But since he was so far from the throne, we wouldn’t even be in charge of anything, really. We could come and go as we pleased. Travel wherever.” Anna turned to look at Elsa with a sardonic smile.

 

“I was afraid of responsibility. That I couldn’t do it properly, like you could. Maybe I was just a silly girl with no idea of what it meant to do something worthwhile or important. So I picked someone who was so far removed from any kind of responsibility that I felt… safe. Someone still suitable, though, for a princess.”

 

“Did you love him?” The question was innocuous enough, but for Elsa, it sliced on the way up, cut and burned and left her in agony of the answer.

 

Anna shook her head. “No. I liked him, though. I’d only known Hans a few months and I let him court me. Mentioned him a few times to Papa, who, predictably, did not like him.” As she thought of it, Anna realized she had entertained the notion of love throughout her life, but had never felt it toward any of her suitors or Hans. It wasn’t from lack of effort, but they had simply never inspired any kind of grand emotion or passion in her. Sometimes she even had trouble differentiating them from each other, all those genteel men who were skilled at flattery, conversation, and very little else.

 

Elsa breathed out. The relief was almost cathartic. “Your father is difficult to please.” _As was mine_ , they both heard. They shared a small smile of camaraderie— _fathers_ , that small gesture conveyed .

 

“I don’t regret marrying you, Elsa,” Anna said. She thought of everything that had happened since the wedding—the chess game, the horse ride, the picnic, even the night they’d spent together. She couldn’t imagine doing any of that with Hans, much less experiencing the same kind of intimacy as she had with Elsa. She wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

 

Their eyes met. Anna looked calmer, a contrast to the mess that Elsa felt inside.

 

“I liked Hans,” Anna repeated. “But after all that’s happened, I would not have married him. I only chose him because I thought you didn’t want the engagement anymore and I didn’t know what else to do. But I want _this_ to be a real marriage. I don’t want an annulment and I don’t want that… clause.”

 

She could not bear it anymore—Elsa reached for her chair and gingerly sat. Anna watched her in bemusement.

 

“You really thought I didn’t want to marry you,” Anna said.

 

Elsa sighed. She ought to feel light, but her head was a lodestone on her shoulders; the rest of her was shaky and drained. “Why would you have? I thought you wanted that Southern Isles prince. Your father said you threw a tantrum when my letter came.”

 

“When was that?”

 

“When I went to Cor—” Elsa immediately shut her mouth and had the grace to look horrified.

 

Anna’s eyes narrowed at the slip. “Elsa,” she warned.

 

Best to do it quickly before Anna got worked up into another fiery temper. “I was in Corona a year ago to add that clause,” Elsa said in a single breath. “I was only there a day. Not even a full day.”

 

Anna scowled and her lips pressed together. She looked as though she was struggling not to shout again, which made Elsa want to cringe a little. That was deserved, too.

 

“I can’t believe—” Anna stopped herself and glared out the window. “Elsa,” she growled under her breath in lieu of throttling the queen.

 

“I’m sorry. I know, I’ve been an idiot,” Elsa confessed. Truer words were never spoken, Anna thought darkly. Elsa really was an idiot. God, Elsa had been in Corona and hadn’t even—Anna stopped that thought because she knew the longer she pondered it, the more she would want to give in to the desire to thoroughly castigate Elsa. She already looked sorry enough as it was, so Anna reached for patience. She suspected she would need a lot of that when it came to Elsa.

 

“You’d better tell me now if you’re keeping anything else from me, Elsa.”

 

Elsa dropped her head into her hand, her eyes fixed to the space on the rug by her foot. She shook her head silently. She couldn’t really think of anything else to tell Anna that might displease her.

 

“I think I was upset with how you renewed our engagement,” Anna said. She glanced at Elsa, arms crossed. “That little letter of yours. It sounded like you were calling in a debt.”

 

“I know,” Elsa muttered, not looking up. “I am poor at writing letters, apparently.” They both knew that wasn’t entirely true, but Anna thought perhaps the circumstances had truly been extenuating in light of recent events. She just wasn’t sure if Elsa had earned full forgiveness yet.

 

“Mm. And you ruined my honeymoon plans.” That was small and petty, but it was also true.

 

Elsa made a noise. The jab hurt, but she did not begrudge Anna for it. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

 

“I don’t think you are, not if it kept me from going on one with Hans.”

 

Elsa closed her eyes and was glad that Anna could not see her do it as her face was still aimed at the floor. God. A honeymoon. Anna was right, she wasn’t sorry at all about keeping her from Hans, but she was for unceremoniously upending Anna’s plans. “You can go on one if you want. Wherever you wish.”

 

Anna frowned at her. It was _you_ again. “Do you foresee not being able to attend _our_ honeymoon?” She asked, her tone deliberately mild, but with an edge that had Elsa looking up and shifting uncomfortably.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Elsa asked, tentative.

 

“Honeymoons are usually for newlyweds,” Anna said slowly, like she was addressing a simpleton. “We are newlyweds. Unless you want to change that.” She pinned Elsa with a warning look.

 

Elsa cleared her throat. “I—no. You’ve made your feelings on that quite clear.” An astounding thing, really—Anna didn’t want to leave her. In any capacity. Elsa was still trying to adjust her mind to the notion, handling it carefully as though it was blown glass sculpture still hot from the furnace. It would take time, she imagined. One couldn’t simply change a certain way of thinking instantly, even after being thoroughly reprimanded for it.

 

Anna looked to the desk, her attention on the suitor files. “What are you going to do with these?”

 

Elsa glanced at them. “Well, the noble thing would probably be to burn them,” she said. “Though if I ever felt irritable, I could choose one at random to vent my spleen upon.”

 

At that, Anna’s jaw fell and she swiveled her head to stare wide-eyed at the queen. “Elsa,” Anna began. “That is—”

 

“Not nice?” There was a trace of humor in Elsa’s smile. “I told you that I’m not.”

 

Anna rolled her eyes, but smiled back. “Were you really going to ruin all of them?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Elsa admitted. “I… had an interest in them, to make sure none were truly unscrupulous, I suppose. As you said, they may have been more interested in your title and dowry than in you,” Elsa said with an apologetic glance. Anna shook her head; the statement was much closer to truth than not and she did not take offense. 

 

Elsa gathered up the pile and returned them to a folder, hefting it in her hand; it was certainly not thin. It would have been many ruined lives if she had felt particularly vengeful which, worryingly, did not elicit even a hint of regret in her. Elsa wondered if it was because she was truly heartless or if it was more that the suitors had been vying for Anna. In some of her darker moods before the wedding, the thought of tormenting some particularly vile suitor had cheered her until she considered Anna’s reaction in case Anna ever found out. That had stayed her hand rather effectively.

 

“But I was not actively monitoring you,” Elsa said. “I didn’t order anything be done. Calhoun compiled this without my knowledge and used it to to prod me along. Holsen was sending me reminders that I needed to attend to our engagement and I was… rather unforgivably indecisive about it.”

 

Elsa gave a rueful smile and handed the folder to Anna. She could still remember Calhoun’s exact words on the matter: “ _Heiress hunters are sniffing after your woman. Begging your pardon, your majesty_.” She had nearly thrown the papers at his head when Calhoun had so casually uttered that. Her woman, indeed.

 

Elsa cleared her throat, shaking the memory off. “Perhaps you should decide what you’d like to do with this. I don’t think I can really be trusted to not… vent my spleen, if I am ever cross enough for that.”

 

Anna took it and pursed her lips. She was rather curious about all those suitors now, wanting somewhat to look through and see what kind of men they were behind those polite smiles and handsome faces. Elsa was right, though—the best thing was probably to destroy it. But her hand didn’t release the folder—instead, she looked down at it, and then at Elsa, who was smiling faintly at her.

 

The epiphany that hit her between the eyes left her stunned and reeling. The pieces simply fell in place, every clue that Elsa had inadvertently left, every carefully chosen word from all of their conversations. Elsa loved her. And not as a friend, childhood or otherwise. Elsa was _in love with her_.

 

How had she not seen it before? Anna wondered, dazed. She could feel her jaw loosening, wanting to swing open and catch flies perhaps, while her mind scrambled. All the things that Elsa had done had been for Anna’s benefit, her best interests, her desires; or at least they were all things Elsa thought she wanted. Every time Elsa had done something that seemed ridiculous and unnecessary, if Anna considered those instances again armed with what she knew now, it all made an odd sort of sense. Every action had love written into it, even if Elsa had gone about it in an admirably clumsy fashion, especially with all the damned hiding and secrecy. Was all this just a dubiously delivered love confession, like a cat proudly presenting its master with a slain songbird?

 

In hindsight, she should have at least considered the possibility, Anna decided. While she thought Elsa had acted like an idiot, Anna wasn’t far behind; in fact, Anna might be right on Elsa’s heels on that front. Anna knew it would color every memory she had—she anticipated poring over each one to discover when those feelings could have arisen because everything Elsa had done so far could not have been borne from fleeting sentiment. The queen was a deliberate creature; Elsa always thought ahead, forever strategizing her every step. Elsa had planned all of this since at least a year ago. It was astonishing to imagine just how long ago all this could have started.

 

“Elsa,” Anna began, trying to come up with the best way to broach the subject of Elsa’s feelings. She decided almost immediately that the straightforward way probably was not the best. They had just fought and Elsa might not be in the best state of mind to talk about… that.

 

“Why did we not consummate? The real reason,” Anna asked instead.

 

“Hm? Oh, well. For grounds of annulment,” Elsa replied, brows raised. “Largely, anyway. It would ease the process if the marriage was not consummated. That is, in case you wanted it. Though you did say you saw the benefits of courtship,” she added, wondering if Anna might get angry about that as well.

 

“But you never wanted it? Annulment?”

 

Elsa colored faintly. “No,” she said softly. “I did not. I’m glad that you… don’t want it,” Elsa added, trying to keep her voice light. “Your father would have killed me, I think.”

 

Anna nodded absentmindedly. “Right. Papa would have taken your head off.” Then she stared at Elsa intently at length and that look made Elsa shift in her chair.

 

Anna wanted to kiss Elsa. She still wanted to do more than kiss Elsa, but the epiphany was shifting that desire into a new perspective. It begged the question of what her own feelings for Elsa were. Confusing, for one; Anna was certain of that much.

 

Elsa finally relented and looked away. She couldn’t read Anna’s thoughts and her nerves still felt raw from their argument.

 

“Holsen will probably messenger that draft back soon,” she said, deliberately changing the subject. “For the inheritance laws that my father was working on changing. If you’re… if you’re sure about adoption, I will work on that, Anna,” Elsa said, quietly. “I’ll see to it that it will pass with no loopholes.”

 

That brought children back on Anna’s mind; she gently pushed it to the background for the moment; she needed to think about her own feelings before doing anything. The folder sat heavy in her hands—she wondered if Elsa had looked at it and felt jealous. She didn’t want to think about Elsa suffering over something like that.

 

“Will you tell me once you get it?”

 

Elsa nodded. “Of course.” 

 

The room wasn’t so cold anymore and Elsa had returned to her usual serious state. Everything had changed again, but it all still looked the same. The sun was still shining outside, the study was still neat and ordered, and Elsa was still there. Except Anna knew now that Elsa loved her, and everything felt different, even if it didn’t look it.

 

Anna laid the folder back down on the desk. Slowly, she leaned down while Elsa frowned at her in confusion, then started when Anna cupped the queen’s face between her hands. Anna laid a kiss on her, soft and sweet.

 

Even kisses felt different, Anna thought. Perhaps because there was new meaning to them which, Anna decided, she would need to test frequently. If she was right, she didn’t think Elsa would object.

 

“You didn’t answer my question from before,” Anna said once she had pulled back, hands still holding Elsa. She smiled at Elsa’s quickened breathing. No, she didn’t think Elsa would object at all. Elsa loved her and that knowledge warmed her down to her toes even though she wasn’t sure of her own feelings yet. She wanted to be sure before she told Elsa anything.

 

Elsa tried to focus on Anna. She had been unprepared for the kiss and her wits had scattered the instant Anna’s mouth was on her own. “Which was that?”

 

“About what kind of marriage you wanted for us.”

 

Her lips parted. “Oh.” She blinked several times. It was another new way of thinking, to consider things that she wanted. To her embarrassment, she was at a loss for words.

 

Anna smiled at her patiently. “Do you need time to answer that?”

 

A flush creeped up her cheeks. “If you don’t mind,” Elsa managed. “I was… I’m just glad that you want this. Us.” Then she flushed redder and looked away. 

 

Anna laughed and pulled Elsa in for another kiss, this time playful and happy. “Will you need very long?” She asked against Elsa’s mouth.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Elsa said, smiling back. She made to rise and winced as her sore body protested once she was on her feet. Anna wore a sympathetic look.

 

“Does it hurt that much?”

 

“Enough that I will not be going riding with you soon,” Elsa said. She aimed a look at Anna and pulled the younger woman into an embrace. Elsa’s cheek pressed against Anna’s hair, the sheer relief making her hold Anna tighter than she normally would.

 

“I’m very sorry about everything,” Elsa whispered. “I hope you’ll forgive me. You married an idiot.”

 

Anna smiled and wrapped her arms about Elsa’s waist. “It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll find some use for you,” Anna said in very reassuring tone. “I heard the servants need some terrorizing.”

 

That surprised a laugh out of her. Elsa simply held onto Anna—for the first time ever, she didn’t have to anticipate letting Anna go. Anna was not going to leave, not back to Corona and not to someone else. Elsa had never felt happier in her life than in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic for beta-ing this chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

Anna left Elsa in the study for the stables. She doubted Elsa would get much work done—that fight had drained both of them, even if it had cleared up many things. They both needed time apart to recover, at least for a few hours. Anna knew she did, anyway. Epiphanies needed to be mulled over and what better way to do that than from the back of a horse? Not that Anna had experience with epiphanies; they didn’t seem like the kind of thing that happened often.

 

After returning to her room to change, Anna strode across the stable courtyard in a new pair of buckskin breeches, dark green coat and riding boots. Grooms immediately bowed as she passed, doubtlessly remembering Elsa’s instructions. The grooms in Corona had gotten so used to Anna that they rarely, if ever, bowed. Anna knew no amount of reassurances would relax the obsequiousness, so she would simply have to wait for the Arendelle grooms to get used to her presence as well.

 

“Good afternoon, your highness,” O’Brien greeted, meeting her at the stable doors. “Shall I have a horse prepared for you?”

 

Anna liked O’Brien’s general demeanor. He had a calm, steady presence that soothed horses, his gestures and speech was also unhurried and deliberate. He was similar to Elsa in that he was used to authority, a quality reflected in how the grooms behaved, but Anna did wonder how he would take to having a woman command him. Ladies in general had little interest in horseflesh beyond ensuring the ones pulling their carriage matched colors. He had answered her questions well enough yesterday, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

 

“Good morning,” Anna returned. “And yes, please. Not too spirited,” Anna added with a smile; she was still a bit sore, after all. “I’d like to eventually ride all the horses we have, so not Roma or Hector today.”

 

O’Brien’s eyebrows lifted, but he did not comment. “Of course, your highness.”

 

After giving instruction to a waiting groom, O’Brien turned back to Anna. “Just a few minutes, your highness.”

 

“Thank you,” Anna said. She studied the head groom, who was tall and wiry, his face still smooth though he had to be middle-aged. His dark hair was closely cropped and he was attired in plain, almost drab, clothes. A very unassuming-looking man, Anna thought, but with an air of competence.

 

“O’Brien, you said you were from Ireland?”

 

“Yes, your highness.”

 

“And you worked in England? For racing stables?”

 

“Yes, your highness.”

 

A taciturn man as well. “You can address me as Anna, ” she tried, though she knew he would decline.

 

O’Brien gave her a faintly bemused look. “You know I cannot, your highness,” he said. “Her majesty would have my head.”

 

She had to laugh. “Oh, Elsa would hardly kill you. She’s quite nice, you know.” But with a bit of a temper, Anna was forced to admit now. A cold one that Elsa normally had on a tight leash.

 

“Yes, your highness,” he said. “Her majesty is very kind.”

 

She really shouldn’t pump the castle staff for information, but with all that had happened, as well as what she’d discovered in Elsa’s study, Anna wanted to find out everything about what Elsa had been up to and in what other ways she had changed.

 

“I agree, Elsa is very kind,” Anna said. “Have you worked here long, O’Brien?”

 

“Less than six months, your highness.”

 

Good grief, all those “your highness’s” had to be wearying. “O’Brien, you really can just address me by my given name. I would also accept ‘princess’ or ‘Princess Anna.’ I promise you, I will make sure Elsa does not order a silver platter for your head.”

 

“Your highness,” O’Brien began. The corner of his mouth was twitching ever so slightly. “If I may. Her majesty, the queen, is my mistress. She gave very clear instructions that I, and the staff under my purview, see to it that we comport ourselves in all properness in your presence. I cannot address you so casually.”

 

Anna sighed. “Elsa must be a terrifying employer,” she said, mustering up a defeated look. “I had no idea she was so harsh.”

 

O’Brien leapt to Elsa’s defense with admirable swiftness. “Not at all, your highness,” he said. “The queen has been most generous with regards to the upkeep of the stables and horses.”

 

“How interesting, I don’t think Elsa has ever shown any interest in horses,” Anna said, eyes wide and guileless.

 

O’Brien took one look at the princess consort’s earnest face and was a lost man. “Her majesty indicated her… disinterest,” he began. “She said that she was seeking to build a stable to rival Corona’s. My background is training racehorses and as I’m sure you are aware, Corona is not known for racing.”

 

“That’s true,” Anna agreed brightly. “To my everlasting regret. I do love racing. Have you ever been to a horse race, O’Brien?”

 

“I have,” he said, drawing himself up a little straighter. “I’ve sent several horses to Newmarket.”

 

“Oh, really?” Anna leaned forward, her eyes lit with genuine interest. “I’ve always wanted to attend the Newmarket races! I heard only the best horses race there. Back in Corona, we only had a few races and, oh, well, the races were exciting, but I don’t think they could compare to something like Newmarket.”

 

“I cannot speak for the races in Corona, princess, but the annual races at Newmarket truly are a spectacle,” O’Brien continued, becoming more animated under Anna’s rapt attention. No more “your highness,” Anna thought, pleased. “Thousands across England and her neighbors come to watch the greatest thoroughbreds compete.”

 

They spoke on the subject of Newmarket and the potential of the Arendelle stables at length for some time. When a groom returned with a saddled mount and O’Brien politely stepped back for Anna to gracefully exit the conversation, she merely took the reins and continued the conversation.

 

“Do you really think we could send a contender to Newmarket?” Anna asked.

 

“With the quality of stock we have, yes. The queen truly spared no expense in the breeding stock purchases.” O’Brien hesitated. “Her majesty did say that you had final say in all selections. Are you displeased with any?”

 

“Oh, not at all!” Anna began to pull her riding gloves and chewed on her lip. “I think you could say I am very interested in Arendelle’s stables,” she began, wondering how to best put it. She had never pushed to be part of any kind of decision-making or responsibility. She would not treat the new stables as a small duty, nor a whim, and she knew if she asked Elsa, the queen would ensure that Anna was a part of it. But Anna knew she shouldn’t run to Elsa for everything.

 

“I’d like to be included in the stable operations,” Anna said, raising her chin to look O’Brien in the eye. She imagined how Elsa spoke to Holsen, how Elsa’s gaze had never wavered from the older man’s face, how her voice had been firm and authoritative, but not overbearing.

 

“Especially with regards to breeding, general care and training. I do have experience, though perhaps not comparable to yours,” she said, trying not to let uncertainty seep into her voice. Did she truly know much about racing at all? She could teach tricks and persuade ill-behaved horses to yield to a rider, but surely racing had to be another matter altogether.

_You are more than just someone’s wife,_ Elsa had said. _You are not cattle_. How long ago that conversation felt, but it had been just yesterday when Elsa had said that. Anna had not thought she would be putting it to practice so soon.

 

“Do you have any objections to that, O’Brien? I promise that I will learn quickly.”

 

O’Brien hid a smile. The princess consort looked so serious that she resembled her spouse somewhat, though the effect was softened by her warmer countenance—her highness simply looked friendlier than her majesty did, like a warm fire next to a snow storm. But fires still burned and O’Brien knew better than to mistake pretty face for benign—the princess consort was also his mistress, if just a step below the queen.

 

“Not at all, your highness,” he said genially. “Her majesty did indicate that your interest in the stables was not a passing one. I would be more than happy to keep you apprised of any decisions.”

 

Anna couldn’t hide her surprise. “Really?” She flushed, while O’Brien didn’t react beyond a polite nod. “Oh, I’m just—glad,” she managed with a small laugh. “I’ll just—well, thank you, O’Brien.”

 

“The pleasure is mine, Princess Anna,” the head groom allowed with a smile. “The queen spoke highly of your riding skill. I had expected to be working closely with you to bring prestige to the Arendelle stables.”

 

Anna grinned. “Elsa talked about me?”

 

“Not very much, Princess Anna.” The head groom recalled the way the queen’s voice had softened at the mention of her then-betrothed when she had appointed him, and the way the queen had looked at the princess consort yesterday during the stables tour. He hadn’t needed the queen to say anything to know.

 

“I’ll not keep you any longer.” O’Brien nodded and bowed. “Should you like an escort?”

 

“I won’t be going far,” Anna said as she mounted. “I’ll be back for lunch.” She waved at the guards by the same gate she and Elsa had used the previous day and kicked her horse into a trot.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna maintained a brisk pace even though she had no intention of going as far as the field. With each stride the tension from the fight melted away, her muscles stretching and burning from exertion. It was a pleasant burn, the kind that got the blood moving and, somehow, always made it easier for her to think. She let her mind empty while she focused on the trail, for once not paying much attention to her horse except for the soothing rhythm of hoofbeats.

 

Once she was some distance beyond the city walls, Anna dismounted and led her horse by the reins to a shaded edge of the fjord to gaze out. The city still dominated the view, but she was far enough that she could make out the topmost towers of the castle without craning her neck much. Hers and Elsa’s royal standards tossed in the wind.

 

After securing her mount’s reins to a branch, she unbuttoned her coat and sat on an exposed rock by a tree with a flask of water in hand. Anna stretched her legs out with a relaxed sigh as sweat dried on her skin.

 

Of course, her mind immediately turned to the topic of Elsa once she allowed it to roam. Anna closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree trunk. The rough surface dug into her back and into sore muscle, but it felt nice.

 

She didn’t know how she felt about Elsa.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for Elsa—she did care deeply for the queen. Thinking more on it, there was very little Anna wouldn’t do for Elsa, though Elsa had never asked anything of her. It’d always felt like Elsa was looking after her, even as children—no, _especially_ as children. Age differences were always pronounced for children and Elsa had worn her maturity and elder status as though she was already an adult. Even though Kristoff was the same age as Elsa, he had chafed under responsibility. Kristoff had not been irresponsible, but Anna had seen him as her older brother - fun-loving, yet uncomfortable as crown prince. She still saw him in the same light, though she wondered if travel and time away had changed him.

 

Meanwhile, Elsa had just always been perfect. Beautiful, graceful, smart; but that wasn’t the whole of Elsa, Anna understood. As Elsa had shown her today, the queen was also troubled in her own way, and riddled with self-doubt and recrimination; they were flaws that made Elsa both more perfect and less so. She smiled to herself, eyes still closed—those flaws also made Elsa human. So very human. Elsa loved her for some reason, and that knowledge made her own heart quicken and her nerves tingle. Reciprocation, maybe? Anna gazed up at the tree canopy, sunlight streaming through the leaves.

 

In the time after the wedding, she had been caught up in the mutual attraction they shared. She had still been determined to think of Elsa as a friend simply because of familiarity and their shared past, falling back on it like an old habit even though they were married. She smiled wryly at herself—obviously she had been very confused. She had thought that she wanted both friendship and kisses and had gone after her desires without considering the repercussions. She had been toying with Elsa’s feelings due to her own ignorance, and that thought brought a pang of guilt. She had not been fair to Elsa, as Elsa had not been fair with her; they’d both acted like fools.

 

But now she knew, and they could finally move forward. As she considered their future, she realized that she wanted to make Elsa happy, a thought that brought some dismay. She didn’t know how she would achieve that since Elsa was hardly a child anymore and her tastes had doubtlessly changed. What made Elsa happy?

 

Anna grinned suddenly. Kisses. Elsa enjoyed kisses. But what did Elsa do before they were married? It was disconcerting how easy it was to believe that Elsa probably did nothing for fun anymore and worked instead. Well, she would need to find out; she already had a large pile of things she wanted to ask Elsa about, so she would get answers eventually.

 

Anna stood, stretching her limbs until she felt loose and limber again. Then she took a deep drink from her flask and gazed out at the flags atop the castle for a good while before climbing back on her horse. She had some time left before lunch, but she felt a pull—like instinct—to return home. Anna grinned to herself—she probably ought to think more on what she should say to Elsa, but everybody knew that wasn’t the way she did things.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna was right; Elsa was not getting any work done at all.

 

In her study, Elsa was on her back on the settee again, feeling very much like a war survivor. Her study, she decided, somehow invited all sorts of change to her life and way of thinking. First she’d found out about Anna’s lack of self-worth and pride, then her mother-in-law had unceremoniously deposited sordid family secrets on her conscience, and then she and Anna had fought like wolves and finally decided… she wasn’t sure.

 

Decided they were married, was all Elsa could come up with. Truly married.

 

Not that they weren’t married before, but there had been a cloud of expectation prior to their confrontation—a cloud of her own making, Elsa knew. She had been too ready to let Anna go, had all but shoved her out the door with the aired secrets and ugly parts of herself. But Anna had not left.

 

Elsa covered her eyes with a hand and exhaled. Anna had not left. Anna wanted them to remain together. Anna wanted _this_.

 

She ought to want to pinch herself, but she was tempted to sleep. She didn’t think she had gotten as much sleep in the week prior to the wedding than in the mere days since. Maybe marriage turned people into sloths. Elsa couldn’t recall if her parents had slept so much. Maybe it was an effect that would wear off? She had to smile at herself—the thoughts she was having. At least she wasn’t brooding or weighing difficult decisions; her mind was remarkably light.

 

Anna wanted to be with her.

 

Before she knew it, Elsa felt herself smiling. Obviously her mind was still processing that bit of news, echoing it to imprint it firmly upon her psyche. Or maybe she was just savoring it, like a treat. Like chocolate. Did it even matter what kind it was? It was every variety of blissful treat she’d ever had, and all the kinds she’d never had, or had yet to sample. It was… just glorious. Indescribable.

 

She felt so _happy_. Queen Elsa of Arendelle, flat on her back on a settee in the privacy of her study, a hand draped over her eyes and grinning stupidly up at the ceiling. All because her wife had said in no uncertain terms that their marriage would be real in every sense of the word. _Real_.

 

To her horror, a laugh bubbled up. Oh god. She was giggling like a silly schoolgirl, too. When was the last time she had giggled? Whenever it was, it had likely been by Anna’s hand. True laughter had not always come easily for her, but Anna had a way of coaxing it out of her. Elsa shifted her hand down to cover her mouth as though she could stifle the burgeoning joy.

 

She could never have expected this. Never in any lifetime, like how she had never expected to beat her father at chess. She had told Anna the value of the games was in the process and not the imminent loss, but she hadn’t been telling the entire truth—she had enjoyed the games, but she had still wanted to win even if she never thought she could. Elsa wondered if this was what victory tasted like: hard-fought, but all the sweeter for it.

 

Yes, she was going to savor it. Bask in it, even, like a cat curled up in a spot of sunlight. Everything felt a little dreamlike, the dual gifts of being relieved of the burden of family legacy and Anna herself. Elsa had not a single hint of what she could have done to deserve the sudden windfall. Was windfall even the proper word for it? Perhaps all of the recent events were orchestrated, done by the grace of something greater than herself? She chuckled softly—it did feel like she’d been granted a miracle. No, miracles—plural. She wondered if it was too late to become religious; she had never adhered much to church teachings. Neither had her parents for that matter, and most especially her father. After hearing what he had suffered, Elsa could see why he would not have placed any of his trust in some great mysterious being. Her father had believed in himself and only himself to protect his family, his legacy, his kingdom.

 

 _God has nothing to do with what you leave behind,_ he’d once said. _It is what you do with your own hands that will make your legacy._

 

Carefully, she took her gloves off and stretched her arms out to examine her hands. She thought he had meant her powers—her curse—when he had said that, for God could not have allowed one person to be capable of such danger. He had never referred to her powers as a curse, but she had known even as a child that she was different, that she had to be—careful. Very careful, because the potential for accidents and hurt was enormous. She had implicitly understood that everyone had to be held at arm’s length and that included Anna. Even if Anna had made that difficult with her utter disregard for self-preservation, which Elsa could only respond to by practicing harder. She had been too selfish and lonely to push Anna away.

 

Anna wanted this. Wanted _them_. It was still hard to think of them together as one unit; the feeling it evoked was a mix of giddy disbelief and excitement. And if Alice’s interpretation of what her parents had wanted was right, they had wanted her to have Anna. It meant that Elsa was… _allowed_. Allowed to be happy. Perhaps legacy did not mean leaving behind something grand and impressive for future generations to gaze upon, but a life she would not regret living. And she would never, ever regret Anna.

 

Elsa sat up. She grasped her gloves in one hand, the cloth wrinkling. For the first time, her mind was filled with such possibility. The weight of duty and Arendelle felt so much lighter at the prospect of Anna being there with her. She wasn’t alone anymore.

 

She dropped the gloves on the seat cushion beside her and began to pull the pins out of her hair until her plait fell over her shoulder and blonde locks draped loosely over her face. Anna had said she liked her hair down as they had walked to the party, she remembered. Now she could do things for Anna simply for the joy of making her happy instead of feeling like she was offering a bribe. Thinking of the future didn’t bring feelings of dread and foreboding, but a heady anticipation. She was actually looking forward to the next minute, hour, day, and for whatever lay in store in that time, the good and the bad.

 

Elsa smoothed her hair out of the way and hoped she looked presentable. She was going to need to answer Anna about what kind of marriage she wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

“I take it your talk went well?”

 

Elsa stopped short. She had been so focused on her path that she had missed her mother-in-law coming out of the library. Elsa turned with an apologetic smile. “What makes you say that, Aunt?”

 

Alice tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look quite so… elated before,” she said.

 

Elsa nearly touched a hand to her face as though to confirm that her happiness was truly showing that clearly. She resisted. “Not even on my wedding day?” Elsa evaded.

 

“I daresay not,” Alice returned. “My daughter did trip into your arms on the altar.”

 

Elsa smiled at the memory. “She did.”

 

“She was lucky that you were there to catch her,” Alice said with a trace of humor.

 

Elsa’s smile warmed. “I’m lucky as well, I think.” The queen wondered how much she should tell her mother-in-law; it only felt fair since Alice had been the deliverer of one of the miracles. “The talk ultimately went well. Anna… dispelled the possibility of annulment.”

 

“Of course she did,” Alice said matter-of-factly. “I did not raise an idiot.”

 

Elsa nearly laughed. God. Alice had hit the nail on the head with frightening precision. “No, but she did marry one.”

 

“I knew that as well. It suits you both. Anna will put a stop to all that foolishness you enjoy coming up with,” Alice said, entirely straight-faced except for that glint in her eyes. “And you’ll be sensible and not let her do anything too foolhardy.”

 

Eyebrows rose. “Such as?”

 

“Oh, no, you’ll find that out for yourself,” Alice said with a mysterious little smile. “It’s part of the fun of being married.”

 

“Hm,” was all Elsa could come up with. She paused. “Do you know where I might find Uncle Frederick? I think I do need to apologize to him.”

 

“Ah, well, I’m sure he’s about somewhere,” Alice said. “Licking his wounds most likely. I didn’t let him get away with that clause in the marriage contract.”

 

Well. Elsa cleared her throat. “Aunt, I do want to remind you that I share the blame,” she started to say, even though she really didn’t want to. Her mother-in-law could be a dragon. “And I did provoke Uncle last night.”

 

“Oh, I meant how he _kept_ it from me.” Alice examined an invisible speck on her sleeve. “Frederick knows better by now, especially when it involves our children. Of course, he should never have allowed you to change the contract in the first place, but honestly. To not tell me.” Alice tsked.

 

Elsa tried not to stare and found it difficult. “Perhaps I’ll see you and Uncle later? Anna said she would be returning from her ride for a late luncheon,” she tried. A very cautious peace offering.

 

“No need, dear. I’m sure you and Anna will want to be alone now that you’ve cleared up all that nonsense. Annulments and amendments! Wherever do you come up with these things.” Alice awarded Elsa with a blithe smile and sailed away like a victorious battleship, leaving the younger woman floundering in her wake. The feeling was not dissimilar to the previous day’s breakfast when there had been some kind of veiled marital dynamic that Elsa could not decipher. After shaking her head, she continued on her original path.

 

She opened the door to her room—not the King’s chambers, but her old room she had used before her parents died. Most of her old things had been kept there instead of being moved with her. Upon deeper introspection, she supposed her life consisted of two parts: the girl who had a family and the woman who didn’t. Though that wasn’t quite true, she thought with a small smile. Anna was her family now. Still, she hesitated at the threshold as though there was an invisible barrier, then steeled herself and entered.

 

She had not been in this room in a long time, but everything was familiar. Elsa kneeled before the chest at the foot of her bed and opened it to examine its contents. Only a few old things, just as she expected; she rooted through until she found what she was looking for and pulled it free.

 

Nostalgia was bittersweet as she examined the worn, but very fine leather. Elsa wondered if Anna remembered it. The queen stood up and cast her eyes about the room as old memories seeped back. The four poster bed, the tucked away dolls, the dresser and its mirror. The tapestries were still on the walls, beautiful and bright even in the relative dim light—the window was uncovered, but the sun was past its apex. While the room was still cleaned regularly, likely on Gerda’s orders, no one stayed in it. The room looked the same as the day she’d left it, as though frozen in time. It didn’t even carry that faintly stale smell of disuse—the maids had probably aired it out recently.

 

She had not thought of her old room at all; she wasn't sure if that was because she hadn't wanted to or lack of necessity. It wasn’t a pressing matter, but she thought that she should decide what to do about her belongings; three years of avoidance was quite enough. As Elsa turned, she heard the distinct fall of boot heels down the hall. She stilled—it had to be Anna, back sooner than expected. She recognized the way Anna walked, quick and with a bit of a flourish.

 

Anna appeared at the door, her hair tousled and her breathing heightened. Anna’s green coat was unbuttoned, a pocket bulging where riding gloves had been stuffed into, and her cheeks pink. A hand came to rest on the door jamb as they gazed at each other, Elsa startled and Anna purposeful.

 

“You’re back early,” Elsa said. She felt oddly exposed being caught in her old room. Like she wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

Anna didn’t reply immediately. She scrutinized Elsa with some surprise. “Your hair is down.”

 

She nearly touched a hand to brush her hair back self-consciously, but she made herself hold still. “Yes. I find that I like it down. What do you think?”

 

The younger woman examined Elsa further before answering. "I like it, too. You look very pretty like that.” Her eyes fell on Elsa’s hands. “What’s that?”

 

Elsa wanted to hide it behind her back, feeling shy. Which she knew was ridiculous, it wasn’t something shameful. “My old sketchbook. Do you—do you remember? I used to draw.”

 

“Of course. You drew geometric shapes. Sometimes animals, too, but you liked buildings,” Anna said. Her features became puzzled. “Wait, ‘used to’? Did you stop?”

 

“I haven’t in a long time,” Elsa admitted. “My father—well,  you know he didn’t really approve.” He had not exactly scolded her for it, but she had still hidden her sketches away when she thought he was nearby. It had felt like a perceived disapproval and she had not wanted to test the theory.

 

“Oh, I didn’t know he disapproved,” Anna said. “That’s a shame. I liked your drawings.”

 

That brought a quick flush of pleasure. Someone had complimented her work rather than her work ethic and it was all the better that it had come from Anna.

 

“Thank you,” Elsa said. “I was—I was thinking of looking over some of my old ones. Perhaps try my hand at it again. I’m quite out of practice.”

 

Anna leaned her shoulder against the door frame, smiling. “It’ll come back. Just like riding.”

 

“Yes, well, at least my pen won’t try to bite me.”

 

Anna’s smile didn’t dim in the least. “It’s good for you. Riding, I mean. Will you come with me tomorrow?”

 

“Rather hard to say, Anna, when I don’t know how I’ll be feeling tomorrow,” Elsa retorted. “And you’re back early. I thought you’d be gone for a few more hours.”

 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Anna straightened and that was when Elsa’s attention was again enraptured by Anna’s legs. God. She had not been paying them any attention in her surprise—they were lovely as ever, their effect no less devastating than before. She forced her eyes back to Anna’s face in self-defense.

 

“More talk?” Elsa tried to say lightly. It came out a little strained instead. “Was this morning not enough for you?”

 

“I thought some more,” Anna continued as though Elsa hadn’t said anything. “I said I wanted a real marriage.”

 

“Yes?” Elsa prompted. “Did you change your mind?”

 

“No,” Anna said at once. “It’s just—” Anna paused. “Wait, what would you have done if I’d said I had?”

 

Elsa awarded her with a baleful look. “I would say negotiations have long concluded and then probably throttle you for being so fickle,” she said, her voice flat enough that Anna half-believed her.

 

“Good.” Anna went to stand before Elsa and smiled up at her. “You’re not going to do anything else just because you think it’s what I want without telling me, are you?”

 

“Is this an underhanded, yet cunning way for you to find out about any future birthday or Christmas gifts?” Elsa asked, an eyebrow arched.

 

Anna’s eyes nearly rolled in their sockets, but she managed to keep them fixed on Elsa. “You know what I mean.”

 

Because she could never resist it, Elsa lifted her hand and smoothed Anna’s hair down. “I’ll be sure to talk to you first,” she promised. “You do deserve to know about such things.”

 

“Good,” Anna repeated. “You’re not wearing gloves again.”

 

Elsa smiled and finished with Anna’s hair. Anna was presentable again. “I suppose you could say that I’ve done some thinking myself. About what kind of marriage I want.”

 

“Oh? Tell me.”

 

Elsa thought about the best way to say it and found herself rejecting everything that came to mind. Maybe words just weren’t enough. She was good with them, had even been called eloquent before, but she wasn’t a poet. With Anna gazing up at her, looking beautiful and faintly disheveled, she decided that sometimes language could be wholly inadequate.

 

The sketchbook fell to the rug with a soft thud. She reached for Anna, cupping her palm over Anna’s jaw, thumb brushing over Anna’s ear. Elsa started to lean down, but Anna was already rising up to meet her. As Elsa angled her lips into better position, her arm fitted around the small of Anna’s back and pulled the other woman close. There was just an edge of heat in the first touch, but they’d had enough practice to not let it overtake them. 

 

Anna breathed out softly when they parted, her fingers curled over the slope of Elsa’s shoulders, palms pressed against the fabric of Elsa’s jacket. Elsa had initiated the kiss for once and it felt so good. The kiss wasn’t urgent, but still stirring. She could feel warmth stealing into her body and a coiling pressure in the pit of her stomach, especially with how intimately their pelvises were pressed together. She licked her lips experimentally, and knew by the rhythm of Elsa’s breathing against her cheek that the feeling was mutual.

 

“Did that answer your question?” Elsa whispered. Their faces were close together, but her eyes were still closed. It was another self-defense mechanism, because she never knew what would happen when it came to them and kisses.

 

Anna’s brain felt fuzzy. “I don’t know,” she said, her lids lowering. ”I think you may have to repeat yourself. You know how slow I can be.”

 

Elsa smiled as she leaned in again to reiterate her point. Anna responded eagerly, looping her arms around Elsa’s neck. Anna was the bold one again, using the tip of her tongue to encourage Elsa to deepen the kiss. It was utterly delicious and erotic and made Elsa’s head swim. The queen’s raised hand fell away and slipped inside Anna’s open coat to stroke her side, the linen soft against exploring fingertips. Anna shivered and pressed more insistently against Elsa—for what, she couldn’t articulate, but she just wanted _more_. She made a small noise in her throat, a plea for something, and hoped Elsa would understand.

 

Elsa groaned in quiet desperation—those sounds Anna was making were as rousing as caresses, and made her belly clench as the kisses became more ardent. Her mind went completely blank as every sense focused on Anna. It was too much, and when they parted to breathe, Elsa had nothing but animal lust to guide her. She slid her other hand under Anna’s coat, gripped her shirt and pulled it free of her breeches.

 

Anna gave a small gasp and loosened her arms. Elsa paused in alarm, worried that she’d gone too far, until she saw that Anna was taking her coat off to _help_ her.

 

“My god,” Elsa said in a daze once the coat dropped to the floor. Anna’s shirt was still half-tucked, probably because those breeches were far too tight. “I’m not even devout,” she said, with no idea why she felt the need to clarify.

 

“Neither am I,” Anna answered, her voice husky. She was on Elsa in an instant, lips pressing a kiss under the queen’s jaw.

 

“Yours, too,” she urged, tugging at the business jacket Elsa still had on. “Only fair.”

 

Only fair? Were they playing a game? Elsa was going to lose, then, because she had no desire to disobey. She yanked the offending article off, revealing a white blouse worn underneath her sleeveless blue dress. Anna was smiling, her eyes dark and sultry as she pushed Elsa until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she toppled over on her back with a sound of surprise.

 

Anna braced a knee down next to Elsa’s thigh and tossed her other leg over the other side of the queen’s lap. Anna was straddling her. Elsa swallowed—Anna was towering over her and _straddling her in bed_. Elsa could do nothing but look on as Anna leaned over her, a hand supported against the mattress, and kissed her before Elsa could ponder further.

 

She couldn’t move away to temper the kisses because Anna was determined for each one to be deep and searching, and clearly had no qualms about exercising her positional advantage. Elsa whimpered helplessly, bringing her hands up to pull the rest of Anna’s shirt out of her breeches, and then pressed her palms to Anna’s flanks.

 

Anna made another gasping sound, her back arching. She buried her face into Elsa’s neck, her breathing shallow and quick.

 

“Good?” Elsa whispered, sliding her hands up until her fingers traced the dip of spine. 

 

Anna nodded wordlessly and started to kiss Elsa’s throat, alternating with little licks and bites that melted every bone in the queen’s body. She forced her attention more fully to Anna’s skin to try to distract herself. God. Anna’s skin. She was touching Anna’s bare skin and the fact that it was really happening made her hands shake, which she tried in vain to quell. Anna was so smooth, and still a bit damp with sweat, but Elsa didn’t care—the dampness somehow added to the experience, further confirmation that this was really happening. Not a fevered daydream.

 

Then she remembered that if she slid her hands up higher and past Anna’s rib cage, she would encounter breasts. Anna’s _breasts_. Heat flooded her and her hands flexed, nails scraping lightly against Anna’s skin, and that made Anna quiver.

 

“Elsa,” Anna panted. That was all she could say, really, all that was on her mind—just Elsa’s name, over and over. She was too hot, her body sweltering, and going by the restless way Elsa was shifting about beneath her, she wasn’t alone. Anna’s knees were like jelly, barely able to hold her up as it was. Elsa’s hands were still featherlight on her, warm and shockingly arousing for where they were touching. Anna would have never thought just her sides and back would have produced such a reaction in her.

 

When she lifted her head up to gaze down at Elsa, she wanted to sigh in deep admiration of the way Elsa looked: her pale locks and plait spread over the counterpane, her complexion flushed prettily, lips parted and a little swollen from kisses. Anna had been the one to do that to her and she felt a thrum of satisfaction at her handiwork.

 

There was a brief reprieve as they watched each other, trying to catch their breaths. Things had escalated quickly, and had gone a bit farther than intended, so it was a silent, mutual decision to stop. Elsa’s hands slipped down to Anna’s hips, thumbs tracing hipbone through the leather, then further down until her fingers curved over thigh.

 

“You look very good in these things,” Elsa said absentmindedly. She was pleasantly surprised that she could form words. “Never wear them in front of company, though.”

 

Anna laughed. “Because it would be improper? You’ve already done that—wearing men’s clothes in front of society.”

 

“Humor me,” Elsa said, emphasizing her point by pinching Anna’s thigh lightly. “Use a sidesaddle and riding habit in public if you must. Or a carriage.”

 

“Mm.” Elsa hadn’t really provided an answer, but Anna had an inkling of why Elsa didn’t want the breeches to be seen by anyone else if the queen could help it. She decided to let the matter rest for the time being.

 

“I really did do some thinking while I was out. About the things that…” She hadn’t intended on asking Elsa about that so soon, but the mood felt affectionate and cozy enough that the time seemed right. ”That make you happy.”

 

“Things that make me happy?” Elsa answered with a quizzical look.

 

She nodded. “I thought maybe the things you liked to do might have changed. Four years and all.”

 

“Ah.” Elsa smiled. “Your mother actually said something about that. How we’ll find out more about each other and that it’s part of the… ‘fun of being married.’ Her words, not mine.”

 

“No wonder she gave me that funny look. I passed by Mother on the way from the stables and she told me where you were,” Anna explained. Not wanting to remain on her knees, nor sit back on Elsa and converse with her while in… that position, Anna eased herself on her side against the bed, head resting on Elsa’s shoulder. Elsa wrapped an arm around her back obligingly.

 

“Speaking of your mother…” Elsa trailed off as she lifted her head. “The door is still open,” she whispered, faintly scandalized. 

 

“So?”

 

“So someone could come by and see,” Elsa hissed, but she made no move to get up. Being stretched out on her back with Anna felt very comfortable. “You don’t care if the servants see?”

 

“Not really,” Anna said, nuzzling at Elsa’s throat. She liked breathing in Elsa’s scent, and pulled herself closer, her arm draped over Elsa’s abdomen. “They know what married couples do, you know. Some of them are even married, too.”

 

Elsa made a disbelieving noise, then glanced down at Anna. “Do you think we ought to talk about that?”

 

“Hm? About?”

 

“Consummating,” Elsa said. “Given our mutual horrible attraction to each other.”

 

Except Anna knew that Elsa loved her and it wasn’t just a physical act to the queen. And if Anna was honest with herself, it wasn’t just a physical act to her either.

 

“I want to,” Anna murmured. She felt more than heard Elsa’s swift inhale. “Not—not right now. But eventually, with you. What about you?”

 

Elsa closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sudden bout of nerves playing havoc on her. “I feel the same,” she said, softly. “But not this very instant.”

 

“You’re not going to make an appointment for it, are you?” Anna asked, smiling even as she said it. “Should I expect a messenger reminding me to attend to my commitment?”

 

Elsa made a choked sound. “Of course not!” She blurted out, cheeks red. “I would certainly _not_ do that!”

 

Anna was already rising up on her elbow to kiss Elsa silent. “Shh. You know I didn’t really mean that.”

 

“I wouldn’t put it past you to,” Elsa muttered with a distinctly petulant air, but her indignation was soothed by the kiss. She lifted her hand up to smooth Anna’s fringe out of her eyes, her fingers trailing down to brush Anna’s cheek. “Do you want me to speak candidly?”

 

“I will if you will.”

 

“I don’t know how to conduct… this,” Elsa said with a trace of apology, like it was a flaw. “You’re the first—the first everything for me, Anna. I’ve never socialized much and even if I could have courted you, I don’t think...I don’t think I’d have known how to.” Elsa smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry.”

 

Anna shook her head. “No, there’s nothing to apologize for. Why not just… let it happen? When the, um, the mood is right?”

 

“The mood seems to always be right for us,” Elsa replied, her smile turning wry. “Anna, we’re in bed in my old room. In the middle of the _day_.” She looked slightly horrified, and glanced about the room as though there might be spectators to witness their indiscretion.

 

“Well, we still have our clothes on,” Anna pointed out, studiously ignoring the fact that her shirt was now untucked and a bit rumpled. If Elsa’s hiked eyebrow was any indication, she was thinking the very same thing.

 

“Anna, I don’t want to… botch things anymore. Your opinion matters a great deal to me.”

 

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this, Elsa,” Anna tried, though she had no more experience than Elsa did and hadn’t the faintest what was the best way to do anything. “Would consummating change so much?”

 

Elsa made a face. “You know, I’m starting to dislike that word.”

 

“What, consummating? What would you prefer, then?” Anna asked, laughing. “Intimate relations? Having sex? Making love? Forni—”

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Elsa interrupted pointedly with a glare. “As much as I appreciate your eagerness to help, I do _not_ require a list.”

 

“I like ‘making love’ myself.” Anna reached down to toy with a blonde lock. “I don’t know anymore than you do, Elsa. Nobody’s told me anything about that. Why don’t we just… say when we’re ready?”

 

The queen studied her. “Are you sure?”

 

“Are you?”

 

Elsa breathed out. “I’m just—is it so easy?” She asked, dubious.

 

Anna smiled lazily down at her. “You just like to overcomplicate things, Elsa. Some things, I think anyway, are easy.”

 

The queen laid her hand over her eyes and gave an ironic laugh. “All right. I will take your word for it, then. Conceding to your apparently superior wisdom.”

 

“I’m glad you finally saw it my way,” Anna said, affecting an airily knowledgeable tone. Exactly the same one she’d used on Elsa on their wedding night. “I told you I knew what was best for you.”

 

Elsa eyed her through parted fingers. “Are you going to bully me relentlessly as well? Are we going to be copies of your parents?”

 

Anna shuddered in genuine horror. “God, I hope not. Not that I don’t think they’re happy, but they’re my _parents_ ,” she said, her voice a hush on the last word.

 

Elsa laughed, then quickly sobered. “Speaking of parents,” she started. “I mentioned last night that your mother talked to me about mine. Do you want to know about them?”

 

“Oh. Well, if you want to tell me,” Anna said, still cautious about Elsa’s parents. But it had to be good that Elsa was wanting to talk about them.

 

“I do,” Elsa said. “Not right now, but maybe tonight. It’s a long story.”

 

“All right. Wait, are we still going to be sleeping in separate rooms?” Anna couldn’t quite keep the indignation out of her tone at the prospect, after all they’d gone through.

 

Elsa turned on her side to face Anna properly, resting her head on her bent arm. “Do you want to?” She sounded very neutral.

 

Anna scowled. “I think you know my feelings about that.”

 

The queen awarded her with a lazy smile of her own. “I wouldn’t mind a warm body next to mine every night,” she teased. “It’s the least friends can do, right?”

 

For some reason, that last statement had Anna’s heart clenching. Was Elsa content with them being friends, so long as Anna stayed with her? Did Elsa even intend on telling her about how she felt? Didn’t Elsa want those feelings to be returned?

 

“Anna?” Elsa sounded concerned.

 

“Sorry,” she said reflexively. She had been quiet overly long. “I was just thinking.”

 

“Did it hurt very much?” Elsa asked, with the same concerned tone.

 

Anna was still pondering Elsa’s feelings, so that took a moment to sink in. When the gibe took, Anna gaped at her; Elsa grinned back in childish delight.

 

“Elsa!” Anna exclaimed, and launched herself at the queen. “That was mean! I swear, you enjoy teasing me!” She grappled with Elsa, fingers digging into Elsa’s ribs. The queen yelped and laughed, swatting at her hands.

 

“Anna! Stop it, that’s cheating!” A particularly ticklish spot was assaulted and nearly made Elsa snort in a most undignified manner.

 

“You deserve it! God, the things you say. ‘Did it hurt very much?’” Anna mimicked in the snobbiest voice she could manage “I am the princess consort, I deserve the utmost respect! You would think the queen herself would be above that,” she complained. 

 

Elsa choked out another laugh as she rolled on her back, Anna on top of her again. “You make it too easy,” she giggled. God, she was giggling and Anna was the cause of it again. “How can I resist when the opportunity presents itself so readily—”

 

Anna did snort at that, but stopped in time and sat back on Elsa’s hips. Elsa looked wonderfully tousled, her hair askew and expression warm.

 

“If we’re sleeping together, we’re going to use my room,” Anna informed her haughtily. “Your room is far too cold. And my room is much nicer, too. And it’s even called the _Queen’s_ chambers.”

 

“You don’t need to convince me, Anna. And if you’re wondering why my room is bare, it’s because most of my things are still in here as you can see.”

 

Anna looked about in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t notice,” she said sheepishly. “Everything does look the same. Well, we can move it to my room. Or you can just use my things.”

 

And just like that, the matter was decided. Elsa sat up and kissed Anna lightly. She was smiling again, but being near Anna made it impossible not to.

 

“All right,” Elsa agreed. “I’ll have my things moved to your room and we’ll talk more tonight. For now, though, are you hungry? We can have a late lunch.”

 

Anna shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry. What do you want to do today?”

 

Elsa caught sight of her sketchbook on the floor and knew what she wanted to do.

 

“I want to show you something.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic for beta-ing this chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

Elsa led them to an empty ballroom tucked in an unused part of the castle. The ballroom was not particularly large, certainly not as big as the one their wedding party had been held in. It was also empty except for a very large fountain basin situated in the center of the room, which wasn’t unusual for a ballroom, but without the fountain head it was nothing but a pool of water. And upon further inspection while Elsa closed the doors behind them, Anna found that it didn’t even have water. It was just a simple dark granite pool wide enough to fit a quartet of horses.

 

Anna frowned at Elsa’s back, her blue jacket back on. Anna had changed out of her dusty riding clothes and into her green day dress and blouse.

 

“What’s this room for?”

 

Elsa came to stand next to her, sketchbook tucked under an arm. “My practice room. For my powers.”

 

Anna’s eyes widened. “Really?”

 

Anna had known of the existence of a practice room, but she had never thought it was a hidden-away ballroom. She had tried asking Elsa about it in the past, but Elsa had always looked so uncomfortable when she had that Anna never pressed further.

 

“Yes. My father decided I ought to practice somewhere safe and away from people, and since the castle has an abundance of unused rooms…” Elsa trailed off with a small smile.

 

“He had this one opened for that purpose. That,” she nodded at the granite pool. “He had moved in here so the room would not be flooded in melted ice water the next day.”

 

“Oh, that was thoughtful.”

 

“That’s because it _was_ flooded in ice water once. The windows are open so the room can dry.” Elsa rested her hand on the granite surface.

 

“My father… He made many concessions for me because of my powers,” Elsa said, expression pensive. “And this was one of them.”

 

Anna sat on the wide lip of the basin to face Elsa. “He loved you. How is that a concession?”

 

“I didn’t mean it quite like that. Because of, well, this.” Elsa held out her hand where frost formed on the palm. She closed her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, tossed the ice crystals away. The light caught and fired them into a dazzling colorburst for an instant until they fell to the floor like strewn diamonds.

 

“He did things that… had I not been born like this, he would not have normally done.” Elsa rested her hand back on the smooth granite and felt a thin layer of frost solidify under her palm.

 

“He loved you,” Anna repeated. That was undeniable. In memories, Anna had seen how much Uncle Alexander loved his family. At times, he could be brusque and just a little frightening, but his love and protective nature were evident in his gestures. Elsa had taken after him in that she expressed love through actions, not words.

 

“I know he did. But sometimes I felt that the very least I could do was to make him proud so he would not regret all those things he did for me. He didn’t have to make me his heir, you know.”

 

Anna’s brows rose. “No?”

 

Elsa shook her head. “No. If he thought I was truly unfit, he could have taken other measures to ensure I never ascended. He said that he trusted me to be a good and just ruler, and that I should never shirk my duty. He said that meant for me to be the next queen and I would need to work very hard to make sure I would be a good queen. He never threatened to keep my birthright from me, but the thought of disappointing him was more than enough.”

 

Elsa smiled and placed her sketchbook on the ledge between them. “Well, that’s enough reminiscing for now. That’s not why we’re here.”

 

She flipped open the sketchbook.

 

“Why are we here anyway?” Anna asked as she peered down, leaning on the heels of her hands. Elsa had opened to the middle of the sketchbook where the most recent sketch was. It was an outline of a gazebo, half-finished and rough, but Elsa had captured the most distinctive lines that Anna recognized it as one of the castle structures within the walls.

 

“Ah,” Elsa said as she gazed down, her face neutral. “It’s not… appalling.”

 

Anna grinned. “It’s good, though. Obviously not done, but still good.”

 

“Mm,” Elsa said in that noncommittal way that meant she didn’t quite agree, but did not wish to debate the point.

 

“Well, that’s all right. That’s not what I wanted to show you. I was just curious about what the last thing I’d done was.” To Anna’s disappointment, Elsa closed the sketchbook with a snap and handed it to her.

 

“You probably don’t want to sit on that,” Elsa said. “Stand behind me, please.”

 

Anna slid off with a curious look aimed at her. “What are you going to do?”

 

Elsa glanced over her shoulder. “Practice.”

 

She placed both hands flat on the smooth surface. For a moment, nothing happened; Elsa could feel the unforgiving cold stone under her hands. She had never used her powers with someone in the practice room, and this particular event wasn’t exactly practice either—it was truly impulsive and out of the norm. For a moment, she reconsidered what she was about to do; perhaps it was too dangerous and rash. But the alternative was to keep hiding it, and if Anna was going to stay with her, even Elsa didn’t find that option feasible.

 

She exhaled and concentrated, pressing her palms down hard as though she could force it out of her. She thought she could do at least this much for Anna.

 

Cobalt ice flowed from the ledge and down into the basin, gleaming in the sun for a brilliant moment until Elsa’s hands lifted and guided it heavenward. From the ice foundation, crystal pillars and struts grew tall as walls linked them together. A domed roof formed, then arched into a soaring steeple as needle-like spires ascended on either side. Even small details like windows, stairs, and a balcony were added.

 

Elsa stared up in amazement, her heart racing with exhilaration. It was an elegant palace fashioned by her own hands, and without the burden of history—a creation all her own. She had never made anything so large or detailed before.

 

“Elsa,” Anna breathed from behind the queen. That brought Elsa back with a start; she’d nearly forgotten that Anna was there. Elsa turned, her breathing elevated, hands still raised before her chest. But Anna wasn’t looking at her—Anna’s eyes were on the ice palace, lips parted and her face full of wonder and awe.

 

“Do you like it?” It _would_ be that moment when anxiety returned. Elsa forced her hands to go limp at her sides.

 

“I thought I could—I could make you something instead of, well, buying things. Like the horses and dresses and the other gifts—” She was rambling off justifications, but Anna thankfully stopped her.

 

“Elsa, it’s _beautiful_.” Anna moved closer and peered at the very fine stairway that curled from the double doors to the frozen surface of the granite ledge. She was tempted to touch it, to see if the ornate railing was as delicate as it looked.

 

“You said it was for me?” Anna said, turning her head toward Elsa.

 

She nodded once and opened the doors with a twitch of her fingers. “Yes. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”

 

Anna seized her in a fierce hug. “It’s beautiful,” she repeated. When she pulled back, Elsa was pink and the contrast was lovely against her pale complexion and loose blonde hair. Their eyes met and the moment held for a little too long until Elsa cleared her throat and stepped back. Putting just a little distance between them because they both knew what would happen when looks like that went on.

 

“I didn’t know how I was supposed to practice,” Elsa began, fumbling for something innocent. “Father could hardly hire a tutor for that, so I sometimes made things. Things that I had drawn.”

 

Elsa gave Anna a slightly crooked smile, a mix of guilt and mischievous pleasure. “No one was allowed in, so most of what I did was, well, secret.”

 

“Why, you little liar,” Anna laughed. “You used to go on about how your powers weren’t for playing! I had to beg and wheedle you to even make so much as a little flurry!”

 

“I did it in here for practice, and where I was alone where no one could get hurt!” Elsa defended, but a smile was still tugging at her lips. “I didn’t do it often, though. Most of the time I really was in here just trying to learn to control my powers.”

 

Anna turned back to admire the ice castle—it really was an incredible thing. Elsa had made it, this sculpture. Anna drank in every meticulous detail, marveled at the pure artistry. What had made it even better was that Elsa had allowed her to watch it being made—it was jubilation and rapture, like the look of a bird finally set free from its cage. Elsa had looked so happy that it had knocked the very breath out of her.

 

It’d been clear to Anna—Elsa was happy when she could make things with her powers. Elsa had always been so secretive and careful with them that Anna thought she hated them in some way, and perhaps she did. Elsa had called being allowed to practice a concession, like it was her fault, and had always worried about how she might hurt someone, but in here… Elsa had to feel safe in this particular ballroom if she had allowed Anna to see her use them.

 

“Do you want to see the inside?” Elsa asked. She looked excited, like a child on Christmas Eve. “This is the first time I’ve done something like this. I’ve added details for the interior.”

 

Anna grinned. How could she not in the face of Elsa’s infectious joy? “Of course I want to see.”

 

They bent their heads together while Elsa showed her the fountain and the imperial staircase in the main hall. A grand chandelier hung high above, which Elsa was particularly animated about as she spoke of how she’d thought on a design that could support the weight and still look like a proper chandelier.

 

“Did you come up with it just now?”

 

Elsa blinked, startled. “No, I couldn’t have. I’ve been thinking about it for some time.”

 

“While you were working?”

 

Faint guilt colored Elsa’s face. “Sometimes I cannot concentrate, so my mind may have wandered—”

 

Anna smiled and touched Elsa’s hand, interrupting her confession. “It’s okay for you to take breaks, Elsa. You work too much anyway, so nobody’s going to scold you for thinking about something else.” Anna withdrew her hand to nudge one of the ice doors. It opened smoothly on its hinges, like it’d been freshly oiled.

 

“You’ve given this design a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

 

“Just some ruminations. I never put anything down on paper.” Elsa looked up to the spires with a slight frown, wondering if she’d made their heights match.

 

“I love this particular gift, Elsa,” Anna said, bringing Elsa’s eyes back down. “But the castle, it’s not just for me, is it? It was for you, too.”

 

“I had intended it for you, but perhaps you’re right,” she allowed after a pause. “I did want to see if I could do something like this, but I am glad that you’re pleased. Though this particular gift may not be as permanent as, say, horses or dresses.”

 

“You could make more. Who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to make some kind of special ice that won’t melt.”

 

It was Elsa’s turn to laugh. “I doubt that, but maybe.” She loosed a contented sigh.

 

“I do feel that I could do more when you’re with me.”

 

The words were offered so casually that Anna was momentarily stunned speechless. Elsa didn’t appear to notice, her eyes already back on the castle to look for flaws while Anna gathered herself.

 

“Was there… was there a reason why you made the castle like that?” Anna finally managed to say. “It’s quite a bit smaller than the royal castle. Have you ever tried making the royal castle?”

 

Elsa grimaced for an instant. “No, I have not tried making the royal castle. It would be a great deal more work than this one. So many rooms.”

 

Anna tilted her head. “Is that all? You could just make the exterior.”

 

Elsa’s eyes slid away. “Most of it.” Elsa was a very poor liar, Anna was discovering.

 

“What’s the rest of it, then?” Anna prodded with exaggerated patience.

 

“Must I?” Elsa muttered, fidgeting. Her arms folded defensively over her chest.

 

“If you would be so gracious,” Anna said, her voice faintly snide just to poke at the queen.

 

Elsa struggled with herself until she finally capitulated with a heavy sigh. “Because the royal castle is so damned _ugly_ ,” she said in a mortified whisper, cheeks flushing red.

 

“Oh, god, I shouldn’t have said that,” she added in a rush before Anna could respond. “It’s my birthright, the seat of my family’s house and lineage, but my god, Anna, did none of them have eyes?”

 

A long moment of nonplussed silence settled, like the aftermath of an embarrassing admission. Which was true, Anna supposed. The way Elsa put it, not liking the look of the royal castle was akin to blasphemy. The corner of her mouth twitching, Anna leaned her hip against the ledge and mirrored Elsa’s crossed arms.

 

“You don’t like the castle?”

 

Elsa scowled at that. “It’s not—it’s just—” She sighed again. “It’s just so _ostentatious_. House Arendelle has a great deal of pride, but there is no need to parade it about, especially upon the symbolic seat of power. All my ancestors apparently felt this compelling need to add to it and make it… _better_ than before. The castle has become a horrible mess of various architectural styles—”

 

Anna listened to Elsa with half an ear because she really did not know anything at all about architecture. She was, however, enraptured in the way Elsa spoke, her hands gesturing and demonstrating what styles would work best as a melding of royal tradition and newer schools of thought.

 

Elsa’s hands were beautiful, and her face so focused and intent as she spoke, like… passion. A fire in her eyes that lit the blue into stunning brilliance. This, Anna realized, was what made Elsa happy—architecture and making something with her own hands. Using her powers to bring a dream to life, if only on a miniature scale, though Anna had to admit that this particular model Elsa had created was not so small; the doors were twice the size of her hand and the tallest tower nearly touched the vaulted ceiling. In the afternoon sunlight, the ice was a warm gleam of gold and blue and even a hint of purple. It did look like a castle fit for royalty, but different in that it lacked the traces of a kingdom’s feudal past. No battlements or parapets where archers could defend from a siege, nor a moat or a portcullis.

 

Just a lovely palace as though straight out of a fairy tale.

 

“Elsa, you look happy.”

 

She was instantly silenced, her mouth ajar and eyes wide. Elsa soon recovered. “Do I?”

 

“Very. Did you study architecture? Or have a tutor? I don’t remember you talking so much about it when we were younger.”

 

Elsa gave a shake of her head. ”No. No tutors.” She nodded to her sketchbook that Anna had left on the ledge. “I didn’t tell my father about it. I was afraid of his disapproval and… well, it was actually my mother who encouraged it.”

 

That was a surprise. Anna had to rifle through her memory for recollections of Aunt Marina. Elsa’s mother had been hauntingly beautiful and almost tragically solemn. Both of Elsa’s parents were serious, but somehow carried different shades of it. Uncle Alexander had been serious in the way that important men always seemed to be, his demeanor exact and proper, but Anna had caught him touching Elsa with tenderness before as well. Gestures like a hand brushing over Elsa’s hair when she’d answered a query correctly, a ghost of a smile for a clever chess tactic, fleeting things of that sort. Meanwhile, Aunt Marina always carried a hint of sorrow in her features, though she’d never been hesitant to touch her daughter with affection as far as Anna could remember. While Uncle Alexander could elicit feelings of deference effortlessly, Aunt Marina had just looked so vulnerable, like a bird with a broken wing. Warm, motherly, but delicate enough that children might hesitate flinging themselves at her in a boisterous pile.

 

“Mother knew that Father would have wanted me to focus on my studies, so she gave me that sketchbook and kept it from him. It was like our secret. Mother even had architectural publications and journals from other countries sent for me to read when I could.” Elsa smiled at the memory.

 

“Is that what you would have wanted to do? If you weren’t queen?”

 

Elsa looked amused. “You know we can’t do that. Taking a profession, I mean.”

 

“Plenty of nobility do other things besides socializing or handling business affairs,” Anna argued. “I mean, just—hypothetically. If you could choose.”

 

Elsa’s eyebrows lifted, but she consented to the thought experiment. “Perhaps. I didn’t… pursue it. Nor did I ever seriously entertain the idea. I knew what my future would be and I didn’t see much point in dreaming.”

 

A flash of helpless outrage filled Anna’s chest and throat, rendering her mute. She wanted to rail against the unfairness—Elsa had given her a way to pursue her own dreams and it wasn’t right that Elsa could not do the same. “You could still do it,” she said.

 

Elsa aimed a speculative eye at her. “Do elaborate,” she urged.

 

“Well, you just said you didn’t like the castle! You could renovate it. Like you did with the stables.” Even as Anna said that, she knew it couldn’t be the same, not when it was just one project when Elsa had an entire sketchbook of drawings she would never see built.

 

For an instant, Elsa’s eyes took on a wistful gleam, but then it was gone, replaced by refusal. “Absolutely not. Do you realize how much that would cost? Not only that, but the entire kingdom would talk. It’d be like—like rewriting history. Or erasing it.”

 

“How? Just say you’re improving it! Like all your other ancestors said they were doing,” Anna insisted.

 

But Elsa was already shaking her head. “It’s not just about changing a few towers here or there. It’s—it’s about _tradition_ , Anna. That’s partly why all the additions are rather, well, awful. Unless something was crumbling already, you didn’t just tear it down. You added your own mark and left everything as it was.”

 

That was new; Anna had never heard that particular unofficial Arendelle family rule. “Did every generation do that?”

 

“Not every generation added to the castle,” Elsa admitted. “But the ones that did followed that practice. My father never made any changes, obviously.”

 

“Do you plan on adding to it?”

 

“I haven’t thought about it. Most former kings did it when they were nearing the end of their lives and commissioned the work. And I…” Elsa trailed off. At Anna’s questioning look, she reluctantly expounded. .

 

“I thought I would be the last Arendelle. The aberration in the line. I didn’t want to think about leaving my mark on the family. Being the last one would already leave quite the footnote on the family tree.”

 

Elsa’s expression turned sardonic. “Like an awful swan song.”

 

“Elsa!”

 

She was already holding up a hand to stop Anna’s outrage. “I know, Anna. You don’t need to upbraid me for thinking that way, but it was what I thought.”

 

It made Anna want to shake Elsa for even thinking that way in the first place, but that would do no good for either of them. She took a calming breath. “Well, that aside, would you want to add to the castle?”

 

Elsa’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m not sure any addition would improve its current state. Why the questions? Being queen is not exactly an idle occupation.”

 

“Because if it makes you happy, why not do it? Drawing and architecture, I mean.”

 

“I have responsibilities, Anna. I was always meant to be queen. I don’t have the time to spare. Anything I can do can’t be anymore than a hobby.” Elsa examined Anna closer.

 

“What about you? Your interest in horseracing, I mean. Did you still want to pursue that?”

 

A deliberate topic change, but one that Anna would have to allow if Elsa was going to be stubborn about it.

 

“I think so. Did you know O’Brien is Irish and worked in England?”

 

“I gathered his nationality given his surname. And I know he has the experience. That’s why I hired him.”

 

“I spoke with him earlier today. He said we have a real chance to send a horse to Newmarket. A real challenger.”

 

Elsa could hear the burgeoning excitement in Anna’s voice. “Newmarket? Lofty aspirations for such a new stable, don’t you think?” She teased.

 

“I mean, I know it wasn’t ever a secret that I wanted to go there, but to race your own horse there? To train a real winner? Maybe even be the first to win the Triple Crown!” Anna sighed wistfully.

 

“It would be extraordinary, I think.”

 

“You look happy,” Elsa echoed. She was more grateful than ever to have gone through the trouble of hiring O’Brien and buying all those horses just for the look on Anna’s face at that moment.

 

“Of course I am! It’s a dream come true. I never thought I’d see my own horse at Newmarket. Visit it, perhaps, but being a part of the race? That’s just… something else.”

 

A dream come true—Elsa could understand that. “The Triple Crown?” She gently prompted.

 

“If a three year-old horse can win the three biggest races. If we bred one soon, we’d still have to wait and train, but if we could produce a real winner, it would be the first one _ever_.” Anna looked starstruck at the prospect. “We could make history.”

 

An idea flit across her mind, one that she did not instantly reject; Elsa felt a bit more confident after the success of the ice castle.

 

“You know that I drew some animals, too. Perhaps the castle could use some inhabitants,” Elsa offered.

 

At Anna’s urging, Elsa made a racetrack of the fountain ledge and, after a few laughing attempts, a pair of galloping horses.

 

“An ice palace surrounded by a racetrack. Very whimsical. Shall I add a snowman as well?” Elsa asked, grinning. They were both on their knees like they were children again, faces level with the horses.

 

“Maybe one not as lopsided as that first horse,” Anna giggled. “Oh, do you remember the one we made when we were younger? Olaf, was it?”

 

“I think so. Did you name him that?” Elsa concentrated on an empty spot by the horses and a small snowman formed. She squinted, then added twigs for arms and a long nose.

 

“That was you! You came up with that silly name.”

 

“I did? I don’t remember.”

 

“You were a child at one point, too,” Anna said. “You didn’t always used to be so, you know, serious.”

 

Elsa eyed Anna. “Indeed? Are you calling me boring?”

 

Anna would have offered up a tart reply, but she caught the humor in Elsa’s eyes and the answering warmth that filled her had her leaning her head against Elsa’s shoulder.

 

“No,” Anna said instead. “You’ve never been boring. Even if you work too much.”

 

Elsa’s arm settled over Anna’s waist, their eyes on the tiny horses. Everything felt very cozy and lovely.

 

“I’m not working right now.”

 

Anna smiled. “No, you’re not. We should do this more often. You’ll go riding with me and I’ll come in here with you to watch you make things with your powers.”

 

“I feel that that agreement benefits only one party, but I’ll take your proposal into careful consideration and send word of any forthcoming decisions at the earliest convenience.”

 

Anna giggled at the deliberately haughty tone. “Is that how you talk to people who come asking you for money?”

 

“Sometimes. I have gotten some ridiculous proposals, and that’s _after_ my advisors have already weeded out the most outlandish. If you like, you can sit in on a few meetings. Do try to not laugh anyone out of my office, though, tempting as that may be.”

 

“I’d like that,” Anna murmured. Elsa noted the hour and they both rose.

 

“We’ll have to go straight to our rooms if you want a bath before dinner,” Elsa said.

 

“Thank you for the ice castle. I love it. I really do.” Anna grinned at the racetrack. “And the horses. Again.”

 

Their hands had somehow become linked, so Elsa squeezed at Anna’s fingers gently. “I’m very happy that you do.” Then she gave Anna another squeeze and released her.

 

“Dinner. We’ll be late if we linger any longer,” Elsa urged.

 

Anna rolled her eyes and tucked her hand under Elsa’s elbow. “Our rooms are right next to each other even if I have to go through three other rooms to get to my own wardrobe. Walk with me.”

 

“No, I have to speak with Gerda first to move my things. Go ahead.”

 

Anna lifted her chin and looked at Elsa pointedly. Elsa smiled and obliged the implied request with a soft kiss.

 

“I didn’t know you would be so demanding with the kisses,” she said.

 

“Married,” was Anna’s high-browed justification, and one that Elsa could hardly argue with. Elsa bent down and kissed Anna again until she could feel Anna’s breathing hitch. Just to wipe the mocking haughty look off her face. Anna tried to glare, but was still faintly glaze-eyed.

 

“Dinner,” Elsa said with a languid smile. Her fingers twitched to reach out for Anna, but she held fast against that desire. “Go.”

 

“You’ll have your things moved into my room so you won’t have to go to that arctic tundra you call a bedroom?”

 

Elsa nodded once. Anna’s eyes lit, but she returned the nod with a sidelong glance that made Elsa’s belly flutter, then left.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsa found Gerda and relayed the instructions for the bedroom move. She was awarded with a look that very clearly said “ _finally_ ” and was informed that the matter would be taken care of before dinner was concluded. To Elsa’s credit, not once did she blush or stutter like a shy schoolgirl. Her nape did burn a bit because she could _feel_ her housekeeper’s smug look on her as she beat a hasty retreat to her room.

 

Frederick and Alice were at the table when Elsa arrived for dinner. The atmosphere was initially stiff when Elsa made eye contact with her father-in-law, but then Alice remarked upon the room’s poor lighting; it was a bald-faced lie as the lighting was acceptable and no different from the previous evenings, but it had the footmen leaping to fetch more candles and Elsa to slip to the head of the table. Anna arrived as the extra candles were being lit.

 

“It’s going to be too warm with that many candles,” Anna said as she took her seat by Elsa.

 

“Old eyes, dear,” Alice replied.

 

Anna glanced at her mother skeptically, but did not comment. She slid her gaze over to meet Elsa’s. Elsa returned with a small smile and a shrug. The footmen began serving.

 

Halfway through dinner, most of which was conducted in muted tones of conversation, Frederick cleared his throat.

 

“We’ve been in Arendelle for several weeks now. It’s about time your mother and I return to Corona,” he said to his daughter, carefully avoiding looking at Elsa.

 

Anna’s hand lowered, the silver fork clinking against her plate. “Oh. When would you and Mother be leaving?”

 

“Our ship departs the day after tomorrow.”

 

“So soon?”

 

Elsa heard the surprised protest in Anna’s voice and decided to interject. “You’re more than welcome to stay longer.”

 

“No, we really should return,” Frederick said. He finally offered a genuine smile to Elsa. “I’ve seen that my daughter is in good hands, a fact that my wife has affirmed to me today. There isn’t any reason to dawdle any longer.” Relief swept through Elsa—it was forgiveness, if tentatively offered. She gave a discreet nod in Frederick’s direction.

 

“I’m sure they’re eager to attend to the honeymoon as well with us out of their hair,” Alice added. That made both their faces color so tellingly that Alice smirked knowingly at them.

 

“Well,” Alice began.

 

“Will you need assistance with travel arrangements?” Elsa quickly cut in before Alice could launch into what would probably be a very inappropriate line of thought. Anna squeezed her hand gratefully under the table.

 

“We’ve already booked passage,” Frederick said. “And the staff here has had the majority of our luggage prepared as well.”

 

Elsa glanced at Anna to gauge her reaction. She still seemed surprised, though that was fading, and there was sadness that her family was leaving, but no more than what was expected.

 

“We’ll miss you,” Elsa said. Her hand was still in Anna’s, their fingers entwined. It seemed like they couldn’t keep themselves from each other, even with small touches. It was all the better that her hands were ungloved. “And we would look forward to any visits.”

 

“Well, I’m sure we’d visit once you two produced a grandchild, so I suppose that would be up to you, dear,” Alice said.

 

Elsa barely kept down a strangled noise while Anna’s fingers constricted painfully on her own. Elsa winced while Frederick laughed heartily.

 

“A bit too early for that, wouldn’t you say?” Frederick said.

 

Elsa’s face burned. A look at Anna’s face told much the same story. Obviously neither of them wanted to be discussing honeymoons or children with Anna’s parents. They managed to deflect most of the questions until Frederick and Alice excused themselves to retire for the evening. The footmen had cleared away their dishes and removed themselves for the time being, leaving them alone.

 

“God,” Anna sighed, leaning back against her chair. “They probably only did that because they’re leaving soon and tonight was one of the last opportunities to ask.”

 

“Well played, then, trapping us at the dinner table,” Elsa muttered.

 

“I would want to see my parents, though. At least… every few months, I think,” Anna said after a pause. She blinked. “I hadn’t… I guess I hadn’t thought of how far they’d be from us now.”

 

“You can go visit them whenever you want.”

 

“And you?” Anna’s eyes were intent on her face. “Would you go with me?”

 

“I would try,” Elsa answered honestly. “But if I have work, I may not be able to. I’m sorry.”

 

“Well, we’ll see. I was wondering, since Mother brought it up, but when would you want to think about children more seriously?” Anna asked.

 

Elsa hesitated. “I don’t know. I thought… perhaps some years from now. I’m still quite young—both of us are, that is. There’s no hurry. Do you prefer earlier?” Elsa asked carefully.

 

Anna considered it. She wanted children, but she had to agree with Elsa that she felt no burning desire to do so in the near future. And given how their marriage was still at a strange, tentative point, albeit much improved from the previous days, Anna doubted they needed to talk about that particular topic soon.

 

“No. I think later is best, too.”

 

“How fortuitous that we’re in agreement on most things,” Elsa said, dry as parchment. They grinned at each other, like a shared private joke.

 

A knock on the dining room doors drew their attention. Kai appeared at the threshold, his face apologetic.

 

“Your majesty, your highness. Good evening. Forgive me for interrupting.” The butler looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Your majesty, if I may request your presence?”

 

Elsa’s eyebrows drew up. “For?”

 

Kai shifted uneasily. “Something has arrived for you,” he finally allowed.

 

“At this hour? Is it urgent?”

 

“I believe so, your majesty.” Then his eyes flicked to Anna, then back to Elsa, which was when Elsa seemed to understand.

 

“Kai, it’s fine. You can bring it here.”

 

“Your majesty, you did say—”

 

“It’s fine,” Elsa repeated firmly.

 

Kai came to the table and drew a pair of envelopes out of his waistcoat pocket, handing them to Elsa. “I will wait outside, your majesty.” He closed the door behind himself.

 

“What was that about?” Anna asked.

 

“I gave Kai some instructions that no longer apply,” Elsa answered. She sighed at the letters, examining the wax seal on both of them.

 

“I know both of these. This one is from Lady Charlotte. And this one, though I suppose I should not be surprised about, is from Weselton.” Elsa made no move to open them, a scowl darkening her brow.

 

“Aren’t you going to read them?” Anna asked.

 

Elsa handed both envelopes to Anna. “Not necessary. I think I know what they want. But please, let’s test that theory.”

 

Anna opened them one at a time. The countess’s letter was scented again, and read in the similar vein as the previous one—flirtatious, riddled with innuendo, and signed with a flourish. The duke’s letter was far more austere and to the point; it simply requested Elsa’s presence for a business appointment the next day.

 

“They both want you for a meeting soon,” Anna said, tucking the letters back into their envelopes.

 

“I thought as much. Weselton is here for our semi-annual meeting. He has an estate in the city for that express purpose.” Elsa sighed and rubbed at her temples.

 

“And as you know, that countess is staying in that estate for god knows what. They must be in league with each other, or at least the countess is using the duke to force my hand with her. I could ignore her, but I certainly cannot ignore my obligation to Weselton.”

 

Anna’s nose wrinkled; she could still smell the perfume. “And the countess was coy in her letter again. I think she’s trying to needle you on purpose.”

 

“Well, she’s doing an irritatingly good job of it. A perpetual thorn in my side.”

 

“What will you do?”

 

Elsa took the letters and glared at them.

 

“I should see Weselton,” she finally said. “That particular meeting is unavoidable. Calhoun is still gathering information about the countess and I’d like to see that first before I make any decisions.”

 

Elsa glanced at Anna. “You do remember what I said I’ve planned for her?”

 

Anna sighed. Of course she did. “Ruining her. Elsa, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. It feels…” She fidgeted. “Very needlessly cruel. ”

 

“That’s the point, Anna. So that it won’t happen again. _However_ ,” she said, emphasizing the last word when Anna opened her mouth to protest further.

 

“You are right that it would be unnecessary. I still don’t know what her motivations are, so for now… I will withhold judgment in that regard. I will tell you if I change my mind,” Elsa finished.

 

Elsa had essentially said she would listen to Anna on the matter. Anna pondered the offer and knew that she should push for more if it meant sparing someone that kind of cruelty. What Elsa was doing, even if it was out of some kind of misplaced need to exact punishment for a slight, was too much. She didn’t want to allow Elsa to go down that road that could only lead to more self-loathing, even if it was a path her father had taught her to navigate. A good king he had been, but Uncle Alexander had not been infallible.

 

“No,” Anna said.

 

Elsa drew back, shocked. “No?” She echoed.

 

“Elsa, you said you wanted to hurt her for me, wasn’t that right? Because she disrespected me?”

 

“Largely. That kind of behavior is unacceptable and—”

 

“I know, Elsa,” Anna cut her off, impatient. “If I’m the wronged party, then I have a say. And I don’t want you to hurt her, Elsa. She hasn’t broken a law. She’s been rude and inappropriate, but that isn’t a crime.”

 

Elsa stared at her, silent. She still looked vaguely surprised, but that was it. No anger or annoyance.

 

“Even so, you do know that I could do it and no one would stop me,” Elsa finally said, her voice soft. Her eyes were coolly blank.

 

Anna stared back, undaunted. “You’re the queen. Of course no one would stop you from doing what you wanted within Arendelle’s borders, but taking personal vengeance on someone because she spoke to you or myself the wrong way isn't right. There’s nothing to gain from that and it’s no better than the suitors, Elsa. It’s not just.”

 

She flinched and broke away from Anna’s gaze. “She actually did something wrong, Anna.” Elsa muttered.

 

“Meanwhile, you’d never even met any of those suitors and you’d still have gone after them if you had felt like it. I don’t want you to do that, Elsa.” Anna breathed out, abruptly aware of her nerves fraying at the tension. “Even if that was what your father would have done, you’re not your father.”

 

Elsa’s flicked back to her, sharp and icy. “I told you that I am my father’s daughter. It is who I am, Anna.”

 

Anna refused to retreat. “No, he _taught_ you. But it’s up to you on how to apply those lessons. And I am telling you that what you want to do isn’t right and I don’t want you to do it. If you won’t stop yourself from hurting someone, then do it for me.”

 

When Elsa didn’t answer, her jaw visibly tight, Anna reached for her hand. It was almost cold and jerked at her touch, but Anna ignored that and clasped it gently in hers.

 

“Please,” she added softly.

 

Elsa watched her for several strained seconds until she breathed in deeply, then out.

 

“A compromise, Anna. No, let me speak,” Elsa said with a shake of her head when Anna opened her mouth.

 

“The countess is going to be part of business. Business relations, that is. I will sometimes have to make difficult decisions in that regard. Decisions you may not agree with. If you are going to take an interest in that, you must promise me that if you hear something in a meeting that you disagree with, to not—”

 

Elsa stopped and her eyes cut away before returning, looking almost apologetic. “You must not undermine my authority before others, Anna. My position as queen is assured for the most part, but I will be meeting with all kinds of officials and foreign visitors with whom I need to interact in a certain way. My power isn’t absolute. I’m young and recently crowned just a few months ago and I need to show that I am capable and worthy. ”

 

“Are you afraid that I’m going to embarrass you?” Anna said, hurt lodging just under her breastbone and twisting hard like a knife.

 

“No, never,” Elsa quickly interjected. “But if you’re going to see them, and you very likely will even if you never sit in on those interminable meetings, do not question me. I will explain my reasoning to you and why I’ve made decisions, but not before others. Politics isn’t so much about the power of the office as it is about the popularity of the person.”

 

“The countess, then? You said this was a compromise. What’s the other part?”

 

“I promise that I will not hurt her out of a personal vendetta, but if her actions turn into something related to business where she must be taken care of, or is involved in something illicit rather than trying to invite my displeasure—” Elsa met Anna’s eyes.

 

“I will remove her.”

 

Anna sighed heavily, her chest falling. It was the darker aspects of Elsa that she was confronting now and she felt out of her depth. “Will you tell me your reasoning before you do anything?”

 

“Yes. I can do that.”

 

Anna considered the compromise. She supposed if the countess was up to illicit as Elsa had said, then it was not unreasonable. If the countess was not doing anything wrong outside of socially, then Elsa would leave her alone all the same.

 

Anna nodded. “All right. I can accept that.”

 

Elsa’s shoulders slowly relaxed and her hand gripped Anna’s hand back. “Thank you.”

 

They were quiet, both uncomfortably conscious at how tense the atmosphere had become in the short time since Kai’s entrance.

 

Elsa finally broached the fraught silence carefully.

 

“I know that I’ve been making decisions without your input and I don’t want to continue that. But I am used to making those decisions on my own, so I may… unknowingly do something without telling you. It’s not that I want to keep it from you, Anna.”

 

“Elsa, I don’t expect you to tell me every little thing that you do,” Anna said, though she appreciated the offer. “I’m glad that you’re willing to include me in these things. Just… don’t make any decisions when it comes to us, all right? Without telling me?”

 

Guilt crept into Elsa’s face, but she nodded. “I won’t. I promise.” They both breathed out, the tension dissipating.

 

“I should tell Kai to send word to Weselton about tomorrow’s meeting.” Then her mouth twitched with a hint of humor. “Would you like to attend?”

 

“What, the meeting with the duke? Here?”

 

“No, not here. The meetings have always been held at Weselton’s estate in the city. But yes, the meeting tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?”

 

“Wouldn’t he mind?” Anna had heard rumors of Weselton, most uncomplimentary. She wasn’t sure she wanted to put up with a cranky duke.

 

Elsa grinned, an impish glint in her eye. “Oh, I’m certain he would mind, but I’ve never liked him much. I did just get married a few days ago, though, so I think I could be forgiven for a bit of… impropriety. Also, I think the overall visit could be improved if you were there.”

 

Anna would have made some smart remark that Elsa was being childish if Anna was only coming along to annoy an elderly duke, but that last statement had that dying in her mouth. She relented after a struggle.

 

“All right, but if Weselton tries to have me thrown out because it’s not my place or something—”

 

“He will do no such thing,” Elsa said, her eyes going hard. “He will be a polite and gracious host. He might try to move the meeting into a separate room, but he will not insult you. You have my word on that.”

 

Anna believed her, especially when Elsa looked like that—intractable and absolute.

 

“We may see the countess as well,” Elsa added cautiously. That subject felt a bit raw still for both of them. “Will you be fine with that?”

 

Would she be fine with that? On their wedding day, Anna would have most certainly answered no, she was not fine with that, and would have also wished the countess to the other side of the continent. Or, even better, to the Caribbean. But it was long past the wedding day and it was also with surprising ease that she could answer, “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Then we should retire as well. I’ll have Kai set up an afternoon appointment so Weselton at least won’t be ruining my entire day,” Elsa sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is he really so bad? The duke, I mean.” Anna later asked after they were in the Queen’s chambers. Elsa was in her closet changing; it was another unspoken agreement that they should change separately.

 

“He’s not unreasonable, but speaking to him usually tried my father’s patience. Mine as well.” Elsa said, voice muffled. She emerged, her blonde hair entirely undone and in a peach-colored nightgown. Anna’s eyes swept over the nightgown appreciatively—it was quite modest, but Elsa was still quite pretty in it. The sleeves stopped just below her elbows and revealed finely boned and elegant wrists and forearms. All pale and snowy, not tan like her own.

 

“It’s your turn,” Elsa said blandly.

 

Pink from being caught, Anna walked into her closet with more haste than she had intended and found Elsa sitting up in bed, the covers over her legs. Anna climbed into the unoccupied side as Elsa started to shift on her back, arm outstretched for Anna.

 

“Wait,” Anna said. “I want to—the other way. I want to try it.”

 

Elsa blinked at her, entirely at sea. “The other way?”

 

“You’re always the one on the bottom and I want to—never mind!” Anna yelped, cheeks hot.

 

“Ah,” Elsa said, finally understanding. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Well, we can do it the… ‘other way.’ You’ll have to be on your back for that, if you would,” she said gently, as though Anna was a pet that needed to be persuaded into a bath tub. The tone poked at her already abraded pride. Anna wanted to refuse, but her embarrassment was already complete and prolonging it would only make it worse. She flopped on her back like a landed fish.

 

“There,” she muttered, her features set in mulish lines.

 

“Very welcoming,” Elsa commented, and gingerly settled herself against Anna. She had to shift about to find the most comfortable spot, but Elsa’s head ended up on Anna’s shoulder and an arm over Anna’s stomach.

 

“How is that?” She asked.

 

Anna swallowed. She could feel Elsa’s breasts pressing against her side, soft and tantalizing. Elsa wasn’t nearly as heavy as what she had expected, and far more alluring than she had been prepared for.

 

“Fine,” Anna said. “Just—fine. Good. What about you? Does it feel strange?”

 

“A little,” Elsa admitted. She yawned, already feeling fatigue pulling her into sleep. “Anna, I hope you’re going to be all right like that for the rest of the evening because I am very tired and I don’t want to move.”

 

The thought of Elsa’s breasts pressed up against her for the entire night sent a tingle down Anna’s spine. She fought not to let it show.

 

“It’s fine,” Anna said in a small voice. “Are you going to sleep?”

 

“Soon. Did you want to talk about something?”

 

“Your parents.” That had been at the back of Anna’s mind most of the day and dinner had brought it to the forefront. “If you want to.”

 

A moment of silence, punctuated by the sound of Elsa’s breathing. “I do. I had forgotten. But perhaps not right now. Tomorrow, I promise. I’m just very tired, Anna.”

 

She could hear how enervated Elsa was and that quelled any disappointment that might have cropped up. Anna found that the new position allowed her to easily kiss the top of Elsa’s head, her nose buried against blonde hair. She had entertained some anticipation of what new things they’d discover about each other once they were on a bed again, but she found only warm and easy affection at the moment.

 

“It’s all right,” Anna murmured, her own lids heavy. “Tomorrow, then.” Just before she drifted away, found herself repeating that word in her mind. _Tomorrow_. They would have many tomorrows. She looked forward to not just one, but to all of them with Elsa.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic for beta-ing this! I would also like to take a bit of artistic license in regards to Anna's comment about the English Triple Crown. The term "Triple Crown" did not exist until a horse DID actually win all three most prestigious races known as the British Classics: the 2,000 Guinea Stakes, the Epsom Derby, and the St. Leger Stakes, which occurred in 1853. So, what Anna says is historically inaccurate as by 1840, the notion of a Triple Crown winner did not exist yet, but I decided to play a bit with that since the setting isn't historically accurate anyway. I just wanted to note that in case there were any equine enthusiasts who knew about that.


	17. Chapter 17

Anna woke first. Waking was a slow process for her. She always resisted leaving dreams, but this instance was even harder; Elsa had featured very prominently in it.

 

Anna couldn’t quite remember what had happened in the dream, only that it had involved kissing. The dream had also left her feeling vaguely aroused and in a much better mood than usual for a morning. By the time her eyes opened, Anna was very aware of a warm weight resting against her. Elsa’s head was still nestled on Anna’s shoulder, face down-turned, a curled hand resting on Anna’s abdomen. She was sound asleep, her breathing quiet and even.

 

A fragment of the dream resurfaced—Anna recalled that the dream may have involved breasts. She would have blushed at that, but she was still only half-awake and her brain pleasantly ensconced from the outside world. There was simply no room for modesty when everything felt so perfect and lovely. Elsa also looked very beautiful sleeping on top of her, Anna thought languidly. Delightfully tousled and so young in her relaxation.

 

She could stay in bed forever with Elsa, Anna decided. And when Elsa woke, perhaps Anna could inform her that something had to be done about the present unconsummated state of their marriage; that thought made her feel even warmer. And if Elsa needed some convincing, Anna was feeling rather persuasive.

 

Anna wondered if Elsa would mind terribly much if she explored a little. Her pulse hitched as she raised the arm beneath Elsa up to touch Elsa’s hair. It was a little thrilling touching Elsa like that, but it was just her hair. Her soft, silken hair, in that incredible light shade that Anna had always admired.

 

Her hand fell, fingertips tracing the curve of a shoulder to a shoulder blade, then down Elsa’s side. Elsa twitched when she brushed a sensitive spot, making Anna grin. Even in her sleep, Elsa was ticklish. She would have continued, but she felt Elsa stir. Anna stilled.

 

Elsa’s eyes opened, blinked a few times, then focused up at her face.

 

“Anna?” Elsa’s voice was low and sleep-roughened. Anna liked the sound of it immensely.

 

“Hm?”

 

Elsa squinted at her, confusion written over her features, as though she was wondering why she had to look up. Then Elsa closed her eyes again, in the way one did when regaining their bearings. “You wanted to be on the bottom,” Elsa murmured.

 

To Anna’s disappointment, Elsa rolled off onto her back to stretch, stifling a yawn as she did so.

 

“What time is it?” Elsa asked, as she shifted to face Anna.

 

“I don’t know,” Anna said. Time was one of those inconvenient realities she had not wanted to acknowledge. She looked at the clock. “Oh, it’s not even eight yet.”

 

Elsa’s eyes widened, then she smiled wryly. “I seem to be sleeping so much lately. I normally would have been up an hour ago.”

 

Anna hummed. In case Elsa was going to get up shortly, Anna inched to her until their heads were almost touching, ready to crawl on top of her to prevent a hasty exit. “Maybe I help you sleep better.”

 

“I don’t doubt it. I’m glad I let you convince me to sleep with you.”

 

Anna gave her a narrow-eyed look.

 

“You let me,” she said, her voice flat and dry as paper. “You _let_ me.” That was delivered in a tone that rang with affront and made Elsa grin.

 

Anna knew she was being teased, and said in a peeved voice, “You know, Elsa, you think you’re so smart and clever, but you’re not—”

 

Elsa kissed her. It was a light, playful kiss, full of mirth and affection. “Shh,” Elsa shushed against Anna’s mouth.

 

“I beg your pardon, your highness,” Elsa said with unconvincing humility once she had pulled away. “It’s still morning and I’ve not yet gathered my faculties. Give me a little time for my manners to return.”

 

Anna rolled her eyes, even though she could feel a smile rising up. “I’m starting to think you don’t ever have your faculties together,” she muttered. “You wanted us to sleep in separate rooms for god knows how long.”

 

Elsa’s smile did not dim the slightest. “I was laboring under grave misunderstandings, but you’ve since corrected that. I’m very thankful for your assistance.”

 

Elsa looked so at ease, and in such good humor, that Anna couldn’t help but kiss her in spite of the teasing. The kiss lingered; Anna knew Elsa wouldn’t push her away if she demanded more. The thought of going further than they had before made her head swim, and she had to pull back to gather her wits.

 

There was an undercurrent of tension in the silence now—it was subtle, but they were both acutely aware of it. It was certainly not same kind of tension as when they’d fought; it left Anna’s belly full of nerves and her skin heated.

 

Elsa was waiting for her to make the first move. Anna could see it in the way Elsa held herself so still, eyes watchful, but her pupils were dilated and the blue bordering on black. Then Elsa licked her lips as if she was unconsciously savoring the kiss, her eyes falling on Anna's mouth.

 

Anna swallowed. The erotic dream was no clearer than before, but she didn’t need specific details to recall the state it had left her in. Her eyes traced the line of Elsa’s jaw to her slender throat, and she moved without thinking. Anna lifted herself up on one elbow, her hand nudging at Elsa’s shoulder to roll her on her back. Elsa acquiesced without protest, though her eyes did widen when Anna leaned over her.

 

“I had a dream about you last night,” Anna said. She was surprised at how husky her voice sounded; Elsa looked taken aback as well.

 

“Was it a good dream?” Elsa asked, tentative.

 

“Yes,” she murmured. “It was a _very_ good dream.” Anna watched Elsa’s throat bob as she swallowed.

 

“Oh.” Elsa sounded breathless. “That kind of dream.”

 

Anna smiled and nuzzled her mouth down Elsa’s neck to her pounding pulse. “Yes, that kind. Do you have any experience with those?”

 

Elsa was quiet for so long that Anna lifted her head to look at her. “Elsa?”

 

Her cheeks were red, a mix of chagrin and guilt etched all over her face. “Yes,” Elsa confessed. She looked like she wanted to squirm. “I have. But it’s—it’s rare! I don’t—” She clamped her mouth shut and cast her eyes about to look anywhere but at Anna.

 

The kind thing would be not to press if Elsa wasn’t willing to expound, but the admission held Anna’s attention fast. Elsa couldn’t just say she’d had a dream and then leave off right there.

 

“Tell me what you dreamed,” Anna wheedled. “Please?”

 

“Absolutely not!” Elsa muttered, mortified. “I said—I said it was rare! I can hardly—no. I don’t want to.”

 

Anna lined Elsa’s throat with more kisses in the hopes it would distract her. “What’s there to be embarrassed about? I had one, too. I would tell you about mine.” She felt only a twinge of guilt at that white lie—there wasn’t much to tell, after all.

 

Elsa’s breath hitched. She was considering it—Anna could almost hear her thinking. “Anna, I can’t think when you’re doing that,” Elsa muttered in a pained voice.

 

Anna smiled against the side of her neck. “If I share mine, will you tell me?”

 

A heavy, defeated sigh. “What do you want to know?”

 

Anna had to fight to keep from crowing in triumph. Sitting up, she affixed a serious expression on her face instead, because Elsa’s obedience seemed tenuous and she didn’t want to test it.

 

“What did your dreams involve? I mean, was I in it?”

 

Elsa scowled while her blush deepened. “Yes. You were.”

 

“Where were we—”

 

“No,” Elsa said, surprising her. “If we’re going to be doing this, it should be at the same time.”

 

Well. She’d been found out much sooner than she had thought she would be. Anna cleared her throat. “Well, ah. You were in mine, too,” she hedged.

 

Elsa watched her with faint suspicion. “Indeed? What exactly did your dream involve?”

 

She squirmed. “Breasts?” Anna offered. It wasn’t a lie, exactly.

 

Elsa’s cheeks flamed. “I see.” She appeared to struggle with herself for sometime until she covered her eyes with a hand, like a curtain.

 

“God. All right. This was some time ago, so I don’t remember all of it, but you were… you did not have clothes on.” Elsa’s voice was so soft that Anna had to strain to hear her.

 

She stared down at Elsa’s covered face, which had turned redder. “No clothes—none? At all?” She didn’t understand why it was such an important detail, but the words were just pouring out of her mouth before she could think about any of it. “Wait, did you mean I was—well, dream me, that is—maybe was in the process of—”

 

“Anna!” Elsa groaned, aggrieved. “Why is that even—good grief. Fine. You had nothing on. Not a single stitch to your name. I don’t even know how I could have dreamt of such a thing, I don’t even know what you look like naked, but that apparently did not stop my imagination from attempting to compensate for that deficiency!”

 

“Oh,” Anna breathed. The confession had a profound effect on her—her skin prickled into a tingling awareness, leaving her palms damp and her mouth dry.

 

Oh, goodness, Anna thought. They were speaking of erotic dreams, and she knew that, but she was still shocked at her own reaction. She couldn’t help the giddy smile that split her face, because they probably looked patently ridiculous to anyone else.

 

She needed to do something about Elsa, though; Anna could practically feel the waves of mortification rolling off her in the thick silence. If Elsa were a turtle, she would probably be quivering inside her shell and refusing to emerge for the next year or five. After pulling the covers back, Anna tossed her leg over Elsa’s hips and sat astride the queen in a smooth motion. She leaned down to tug gently at Elsa’s hand.

 

“Elsa,” Anna said in the same tone she used with skittish horses. “Oh, don’t be like that. I did ask. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

Elsa made a huffing noise and refused to look at her. “I hadn’t meant to tell you that,” she muttered.

 

“Why not? I had a dream about you, too, but I can’t say if we were, ah, attired.” If they weren’t, Anna wondered if her imagination had also helpfully filled in for the deficiency. Elsa had to be pale all over, and likely soft and smooth and—Anna severed that train of thought before it could develop further. She was _not_ going to think about that while she was straddling Elsa.

 

Elsa did not answer; her silences were always far more effective at communicating her mood than anything else.

 

“I have a confession, too. I actually can’t remember what we did in my dream, but it did have kissing and breasts,” Anna said gamely, and braced herself for a heated glare, which was exactly what she got the instant Elsa’s hand dropped away from her face.

 

Elsa’s mouth was agape. “You lied,” she accused.

 

Anna tried to arrange her features into contrition. “I did, but it was the first time I had a dream like that. I was just, well, I thought maybe if you told me yours that I might remember more.”

 

Her dignity was still fragile, so all Elsa could say was, “You tricked me,” in an injured tone. Anna fought to keep her face penitent—it was truly difficult when Elsa looked on the verge of a full-blown pout.

 

“I’m sorry!” She hoped that sounded sincere; Anna could feel laughter wanting to bubble up.

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“I really am!” Elsa still looked so perturbed that Anna couldn’t resist kissing her softly. “Besides, what’s wrong about having dreams like that? Once we actually… make love, we will need to be naked, won’t we?”

 

“Anna,” Elsa started, then sighed. “I haven’t the faintest notion of any of… that. If you think just because I’ve had a few dreams about it that I would know, you are mistaken.”

 

Anna pressed her forehead down to Elsa’s and smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to fumble about then, won’t we?”

 

“Well, I was hoping for a bit more grace, but I suppose fumble would be the more apt description if you’re even tangentially involved—”

 

Anna dug her fingers into Elsa’s side and was awarded a surprised snort of laughter for her efforts. “Hm, yes, _more grace_ ,” Anna said, mimicking Elsa’s mordant tone.

 

Elsa delivered a mock glare, but smiled back. “We should get up if you want to attend breakfast with your parents. They are leaving tomorrow.”

 

Anna glanced at the clock and sighed; Elsa was right. If they didn’t get up now, they would miss breakfast, and there would be little time left in the day if she was going with Elsa to see the duke in the afternoon.

 

She climbed off Elsa and waited for her to sit up. “Elsa, I want to do something soon. About… us.”

 

Elsa’s head swiveled to Anna, eyes wide. “What? _Now?_ You mean—”

 

“I said soon, not right this instant, Elsa,” Anna laughed. “I just—I want to know what it feels like. To make love with you.”

 

Elsa’s face colored so fast and brilliantly that Anna was amazed she didn’t fall over from the sudden rush of blood to her head.

 

“Your frankness is bracing, as usual,” Elsa managed.

 

“Well, we clearly both want it if our dreams are anything to go by,” Anna pointed out. It sounded very reasonable to her own ears. That ought to appeal to Elsa’s logic—she hoped, anyway.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Elsa ran a shaky hand through her hair before she answered. “God. All right. Soon, then. I don’t understand how you make it sound so easy. Though I suppose if I have protests, you’ll just bring me around to it, anyway.”

 

“You’ll _let_ me convince you, remember?” Anna said, voice heavy with irony.

 

Elsa paused and loosed a laugh.

 

Anna was right, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

They dressed separately again and joined Frederick and Alice for breakfast. They also pointedly avoided sitting too close together, as if the proximity might give away what they’d been up to. Elsa was relieved to find Frederick and Alice in high spirits, their good mood diverting Anna’s attention for the most part. It wasn’t until somewhere midway through breakfast that the full import of Anna’s “soon” smacked Elsa over the back of the head, and nearly sent her face flying into a plateful of eggs.

 

 _Had Anna meant that evening?_ She went light-headed at the thought. What if Anna had meant tonight? She wouldn’t be able to refuse Anna even if she wanted to, and she certainly did not want to refuse Anna. In spite of that, her heart was stumbling at how… _unprepared_ she felt. That was the only word she could come up with to describe the feeling. It was as if a tutor had sprung a test upon her for a subject she had never studied, nor known existed. Surely Anna wouldn’t think less of her for not knowing? Anna was just as inexperienced as she was. Yet, that fact brought her no comfort—how could they manage if neither of them knew what they were about?

 

Could one do it _wrong_?

 

Elsa had an overwhelming urge to bury her head in her hands and whimper. What had Anna said the day after the wedding? Something about being a skilled rider and physically fit being best, of which Elsa was neither. This was one thing she did not want to do wrong, and Elsa had proven that she had a talent for doing things wrong.

 

Elsa’s mind churned so violently with half-formed forebodings of all the potential wrongs that could be committed that she missed Anna’s initial question.

 

“Elsa, do you want to go riding with us?” Anna repeated, voice and brows raised at her.

 

“What? Do I—oh. Riding.” Three pairs of eyes gazed at her. Elsa resisted the urge to fidget. “No, thank you. You should go ahead. Spend time with your family.”

 

Anna studied her, lips pursed. “You should come with us, Elsa. Riding’s good for you.” Her countenance had taken on an unyielding look that was terrifyingly familiar—Anna’s resemblance to her mother was uncanny, at times. 

 

She could feel her heels wanting to drag in protest; Elsa had no wish to partake in an activity where her ability could be called into question at the moment. 

 

“Anna, I have some work to do ”

 

Anna turned to her father. “Please excuse us. I’ll see you and Mother by the stables in half an hour.” Then Anna stood, grabbed Elsa by the wrist, and nearly dragged her from the room. Both missed the exchanged glances that passed between Frederick and Alice.

 

“Where are we going? You don’t need to lead me about like a lost child.”

 

“I wonder about that sometimes,” Anna muttered, not releasing her hold on Elsa. She opened the nearest door she came across, which was to an empty parlor room. Pulling Elsa in after her, she shut the door and rounded on the queen.

 

“What is it?” Anna demanded.

 

Elsa stiffened at her tone. “What is what?”

 

“You. You’re acting strange again. You were fine this morning, then sometime over eggs and toast, the sky fell and you were the only one who seemed to have noticed.”

 

Elsa made a face. “‘The sky fell’?”

 

Anna waved an impatient hand. “You can put it however you want, but what is it, Elsa? Are you worried about the meeting with the duke? I promised that I wouldn’t say anything stupid, so you don’t have to be concerned about that.”

 

“No, it’s not—it’s not that.” Anna’s bracing frankness had cut to the heart of the matter once again. She ought to take a page out of the book of Anna, as Alice had put it.

 

“I don’t want to do it wrong,” Elsa blurted out. At Anna’s questioning look, Elsa fought not to color.

 

“Sex!” She hissed, her hands clenching. “Making love! You said soon.. I don’t even know how to do—anything! And I don’t want to do it _wrong._ ”

 

Anna stared at her. “You don’t want to do it wrong,” she repeated. “You don’t want to… make love wrong.”

 

With the words actually said aloud, it sounded very strange and even more humiliating. Elsa said nothing—she obviously had no idea how to say anything without embarrassing herself—while attempting to collect her scattered dignity. Why did she even bother? Elsa wondered irritably. Everybody around her clearly thought she had no need of it.

 

The corner of Anna’s mouth twitched in unmistakable humor. “Elsa…” She started, her voice quivering in such a way that obliterated the remainder of Elsa’s pride.

 

The queen drew up to her full height and _glared_. Anna caught the full blast of it, a potent mix of royal ire and helpless indignance. Anna clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the first peal of laughter.

 

“Obviously, my concerns were unwarranted,” Elsa said, the inflection so caustic that Anna was surprised her ears didn’t scorch from it. “You’re easily pleased if you find the idea of an inexperienced lover amusing.”

 

At “lover,” Anna’s laughter was instantly vanquished. She found herself gazing at Elsa with what felt like very deep fondness and affection. How Elsa had changed; or perhaps this fretful side had simply never had the opportunity to show itself when they were growing up. No, that wasn’t true; Elsa had always been a bit… high-strung, Anna realized. It was just another thing entirely to see that being applied to the soon-to-be intimate aspect of their relationship.

 

“You’re high-strung.” Anna said. She started; she had not meant to say that aloud.

 

“What?” Elsa looked offended now. “What did you—high-strung? I am certainly not.” Elsa had the gall to look down her nose at Anna in a ridiculous display of superiority, as if she could win the argument by sheer hauteur alone.

 

The longer Anna thought about it, the more she believed the description fit. “You are!” Anna said, undeterred. “God, I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before, but you’re no better than a green colt!”

 

“You’re comparing me to a _horse_.” Elsa sneered out the last word, and then paused.

 

“I am _not_ high-strung,” she added, sounding precariously petulant. 

 

“What else would you call worrying about inconsequential details such as… performance?” Anna asked, her brow rising. “You have delicate nerves.”

 

“I am not a horse! Nor do I have delicate nerves!”

 

“Well, repeating it won’t make it any less true,” Anna replied. Elsa looked like she was on the edge of a temper fit, which would probably manifest as an unceremonious march out of the room. Anna framed Elsa’s face between her hands before Elsa could give in to the temptation, rose up on her toes, and kissed her. Kisses usually distracted Elsa, and Anna was counting on this one to calm those aristocratic, anxiety-prone nerves.

 

“Stop worrying, Elsa,” Anna said, gently. “I’m sure you’ll perform admirably.”

 

Elsa huffed in disbelief. “And how exactly would you be in a position to judge if you don’t know any better yourself?”

 

Anna blinked. “Well, I heard from the grooms back in Corona that if the lady likes it, she will be very vocal about it and—”

 

Elsa shut her eyes in horror. “Stop! Stop it. I am not going to take second-hand advice from the Corona grooms, good god.”

 

“High-strung _and_ a snob,” Anna sighed theatrically. “You were obviously born a thoroughbred.”

 

Elsa glowered at her, unamused. “I don’t want to botch it. And I seem to excel at botching things.”

 

“We’ll do it slowly. Unless you’re suggesting that we never do it. I put my foot down at abstinence, Elsa, because I swear, I _will_ hit you if you suggest that again—”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Elsa yelped, shaking Anna’s hands off. “I want to as well, all right? It’s just not—it’s not easy for me as it is for you. It’s different when you’re not in the heat of the moment, and when I think about it, I’m—”

 

“You’re overthinking it.”

 

“Of course I overthink! It’s probably my only talent, aside from mucking things up, Anna!” Elsa burst, startling both of them. She took a steadying breath and dragged a hand through her loose hair—this morning was a rare one where she had not arranged it into her habitual bun.

 

“Perhaps I am a bit high-strung,” she conceded after regaining a semblance of composure. “I’m sorry, Anna. I just... don’t want to disappoint.”

 

Anna’s expression softened. “Elsa, I don’t think you could ever disappoint me.” Anna drew the queen into an embrace, arms linked around Elsa’s waist. “You really do worry too much. It can’t be good for you.”  


“I will endeavor to do better next time.” She didn’t sound confident in the promise. Anna squeezed her and drew back.

 

“Come riding with me. It’ll be relaxing.”

 

“I do actually have some work. I need to go over my files for Weselton. Go ahead with your parents, you should spend time with them before they leave.”

 

“You’re not going to go flitting off on some other thing that nobody in their right mind should be worrying about?”

 

Elsa laughed. “I said I would try. My delicate nerves.”

 

“It’ll be a short ride,” Anna promised. “Then we’ll go see the duke.”

 

* * *

 

 

True to her word, Anna kept the ride short. She left her parents to explore old trails, and returned to find Elsa in the study.

 

Elsa looked up from her desk, feeling considerably calmer after blunting her wits with financial reports. “Back already? You’ve only been gone an hour and a half.”

 

“Mother and Papa are still out. When is the meeting?”

 

“In another two hours.” Elsa eyed Anna’s breeches. “Do you plan on attending wearing that?”

 

Anna had not, but since Elsa was asking, she seized the opportunity. “Well, if I’m only there to annoy him and make the visit nicer for you…”

 

Elsa scowled. “You’re not there to be _ornamental_. I thought you might like to be present to see what work I do. Perhaps visit the city proper as well. Far be it from me to be thoughtful, what with my delicate nerves.”

 

Anna smiled at the miffed tone. “You like the breeches, don’t you?”

 

“I thought I made that clear.”

 

“Enough that you don’t want anyone else to see.”

 

“Does that bother you?” Elsa asked, very carefully neutral.

 

“No. It’s just nice to be told that,” Anna replied. “I’ll be in the stables and change later.” She gave a little wave and strode off, leaving Elsa to frown at her back.

 

* * *

 

 

They left for the duke’s estate in a carriage emblazoned with Elsa’s royal seal and flanked by a quartet of mounted guards. Anna protested the use of the carriage—the city wasn’t far, and horseback was far less stifling.

 

“It’s for show,” Elsa said as she helped Anna into the carriage. “Weselton is a stickler for meaningless propriety. He would probably have an apoplectic fit if you had shown up in the breeches, by the way. Not that I would complain about either of those conditions,” she added, making Anna laugh.

 

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to see me in them.”

 

“I would make an exception for a charitable cause,” Elsa said, climbing after Anna.

 

“Does he hang his head out the window to see how people travel about, or something?” Anna asked. Anna was dressed in a simple pale green dress that she thought looked appropriate for a business meeting. Elsa was back in a very similar blue dress and jacket she’d worn for the meeting with her lawyers, her hair still unbound, but her hands were gloved once again. The carriage seats were well-sprung and plush, and proved themselves worthy of their finery as soon as the driver snapped his whip; she could hardly feel the carriage rolling over the cobblestones.

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he did,” Elsa said. “He’s getting on in his years, but still spry. He doesn’t like me.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Hm, no, that’s not right. He doesn’t like my family and anything related to Arendelle, would be more accurate. I didn’t know why for a long time.” Elsa met Anna’s eyes.

 

“Now may not be the most appropriate time, but I think perhaps you should know before you see the duke. It’s related to what your mother told me.”

 

“The story about your parents?”

 

“Yes. I think Weselton is still angry about an engagement my father broke off. My father was once expected to marry Weselton’s daughter.”

 

“What? Really? I’ve never heard that.”

 

“It wasn’t arranged like ours, but I’m told it was expected. Weselton wanted to marry his daughter into royalty.”

 

“Oh. Wow.” Anna studied Elsa’s face. “Your father and Weselton. Weselton could have been your grandfather.”

 

The aghast look that passed over Elsa’s face made Anna laugh gaily.

 

“Let’s not entertain that thought, nor contemplate the impossibility of it. I resemble my father little enough as it is,” Elsa muttered.

 

“All right, but why did your father break it off? Did he fall in love with your mother?”

 

“Something like that. Weselton doesn’t know the real reason.” Elsa hesitated. “My mother and father had an affair. My father got my mother with child and married her.”

 

Anna knew her jaw was sliding open, but she couldn’t help it. She had heard of stories like that in gossip, traded behind unfurled fans at parties. They were usually recounted with fits of scandalized giggles, and always with an air of condescension and pity. It was very difficult to imagine Elsa’s regal parents being the subject of that kind of tawdry gossip.

 

“That’s—” Anna shook her head. “God. I don’t know what to say. Wait, my mother told you this?”

 

“Yes, she said she was there and knew about the affair. She said their marriage started out… somewhat contentious. My parents were upset with each other for being foolish.” Elsa gazed out the carriage window, the fjord just passing out of view as they entered the city.

 

“There’s more, none of it happier than before, but now isn’t a good time for the rest. I’ll tell you later.”

 

“They loved each other though, didn’t they?” Anna asked in a small voice, after a long moment. “I mean, even if they didn’t have the best beginning, they loved each other.”

 

“I think so, too. It’s still shocking, though.” Elsa gazed out the carriage window, pensive.

 

Anna wasn’t sure what else she ought to say for Elsa, though she remembered that Elsa had found out the first night they’d slept together; Elsa had been in an odd mood, but not upset.

 

“Best not share that tale with the duke,” Elsa said, a smile touching her lips. “I doubt it will improve his feelings toward Arendelle.”

 

“I won’t. What is the meeting for?”

 

“Reviewing the state of Weselton’s loans from the kingdom, largely. He will probably argue about astronomical interest rates, perhaps try to persuade me into whatever investments he thinks are worthwhile. It will be boring, but I’ll try to keep it short. The duke enjoys hearing himself speak.”

 

“Couldn’t you delegate the meeting to someone else if you don’t want to do it?”

 

“Weselton has a bit of a history with Arendelle, and he has some sway with King William of the Netherlands. Weselton has always met with a member of the royal family in Arendelle and to change that would be rude. It’s part of my duty and I will have to tolerate the cockalorum.”

 

Anna looked at her blankly. “The what?”

 

Elsa blinked. “What—oh, cockalorum? My father used to call the duke that. It means a self-important little man.”

 

She knew enough of the duke to know that it did suit him perfectly, but remained dubious. “Does it really mean that? Are you sure your father didn’t just make that up?”

 

“I asked him the very same question and he told me to find it in a dictionary. I did, and it really does mean that. I’ll show you the entry when we return. God, have you ever seen the duke dance? It suits him even better if you have.”

 

Anna laughed again, because she actually had caught a glimpse of the duke dancing during the wedding party.

 

“Elsa, that is awful,” she chided, which did nothing to quell her own humor or Elsa’s. The pair found themselves grinning at each other at the shared joke just as the carriage came to a stop before a large manor. The carriage door opened and a coachman appeared to assist them.

 

Elsa examined the front of the mansion once Anna had exited. “Neo-classicist, renovated in the past decades. A popular style, though falling out of favor of late,” Elsa remarked absentmindedly.

 

“Reconsidering architecture?”

 

“No, just a habit of mine.” The front door open and a butler emerged. “And there is our escort.”

 

They were led to a large drawing room and seated on a sofa. The housekeeper trailed in after the butler, served tea and small cakes on a silver tray that was left on table, then retreated.

 

“His grace will be with you shortly,” the butler said, before taking his leave.

 

Elsa sighed once the door was closed. “Weselton enjoys doing this—making me wait. I was tempted to arrive late to make up for that, but that would be rude and not go unnoticed, so we can sit here and twiddle our thumbs for his grace.”

 

“There’s chocolate in the cakes,” Anna said, holding up a piece on her fork. “Have some.”

 

“I can feed myself,” Elsa said archly, but took the offering gracefully enough. “Well, at least our host does not skimp on the hospitality, even if he does on punctuality.”

 

“His grace would be saddened to hear such comments from his guests,” a feminine voice replied as the door opened.

 

Both women stiffened. The countess glided into the room and dipped into a curtsy. Lady Charlotte was dressed more modestly this time, her bosom no longer on display, but her dress was a similar shade of eye-catching red as the one she’d worn to the wedding party. Her chestnut hair fell over pale shoulders, framing her face and accenting her lightly painted mouth. Were courtesans supposed to look outrageously sensual all the time? Anna found herself wondering. Or did they have off days?

 

“It’s lovely to see you again, your majesty, your highness,” Lady Charlotte said, incongruously demure.

 

Anna would have risen to return the gesture, but she could feel the antipathy emanating from Elsa like a creeping draft. As Anna reached to the table to return her small plate, she discreetly gripped Elsa’s clenched fist with her other hand. The queen glanced at her sharply, which Anna answered with the barest hint of a headshake, her eyes never straying from that plate.

 

 _Behave_ , Anna silently said. 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elsa’s jaw tense for an instant, but her hands loosened just a hair.

 

“Hello, Lady Charlotte,” Elsa said, her voice so flatly disinterested that it bordered on rude; but it was enough. The countess aimed a knowing smile at Anna, then settled on the opposite sofa.

 

“How interesting,” Lady Charlotte said once she had smoothed her skirts out. “Both of you just look so… cozy. I wouldn’t have imagined it so soon after your wedding. It was arranged, was it not?”

 

The implication put Elsa’s back up and made her eyes narrow; she was readying something exceptionally cutting to throw.

 

“We’ve known each other since we were children,” Anna interjected with a benign smile before Elsa could open her mouth. “We’re hardly strangers.”

 

“Ah, how romantic to have known each other for so long. I met my own husband in a less than ideal place,” Lady Charlotte said with a wistful air. “It was the opening night of one of my first roles as leading lady—I’m sure you are aware of my prior career as an actress?”

 

“Yes,” Elsa bit out, before Anna could respond. “We came here to meet the duke. I did not agree to a meeting with you. Why are you here?”

 

“I take it you don’t mean why am I in the building. I have been sending you such nice letters and eagerly waiting for your reply, and yet—”

 

“So you decided to ambush me?” Elsa said with the faintest sneer. Anna wondered if it would be very obvious if she kicked Elsa. Perhaps stepping on her foot would be more discreet.

 

“Oh, I’d hardly call it ambushing; I’m sure you were aware that I am enjoying his grace’s hospitality. The duke is also preoccupied at this time,” Lady Charlotte said brightly. “And it was the least I could to ensure the queen and princess consort are… entertained.” Her voice caressed the last word, her meaning apparent.

 

Anna and Elsa both drew back at the suggestion. The countess laughed—it was a surprisingly pleasant laugh, light and silver.

 

“Ah, I meant no offense, of course, so please forgive the bawdy humor—a vestige from a previous life, as I said. I am surprised, though, to see the princess consort with you for your business meeting, your majesty.”

 

“I asked to come with Elsa,” Anna lied, her polite smile still firmly in place. She didn’t quite trust Elsa not to launch an unprovoked insult. “And Elsa was kind enough to allow me to come with her to see what kind of work she does.”

 

“Truly kind of you, your majesty. Well, if you’re truly curious, your highness, I might have just the thing for you. My employer is a competitor of Collier Company and still very much interested in it. We’d like to make an offer to purchase Arendelle’s controlling share.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We feel very optimistic about the company.”

 

Elsa’s lips twisted into a thin smile. “I feel very optimistic about it myself. I think it’s a sound investment. I feel no urgent need to relieve the kingdom of such good fortune “

 

The countess leaned forward, her expression playful, but with an intent focus. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to cheat you, your majesty. Our offer would be generous. Current market value, with an additional incentive at that. Negotiable, of course.”

 

Elsa’s face was inscrutable, but her eyes had turned to ice, hard and cold. She was still, her gaze fixed to the countess’ face like a hunter sighting prey. The way Elsa stared was enough to make anyone uncomfortable—it wasn’t even directed at her, but Anna still felt it tangibly pressing down on her chest, like a great paw forcing truth out. After several moments, the countess shifted in her seat, as if to find some relief from that intense scrutiny.

 

“You’ve given me very little information,” Elsa said finally. “And I will not make a decision now. I will consider it for the time being, even if I believe my answer will be refusal. I don’t appreciate unscheduled meetings, either during parties or before a prior appointment.”

 

The countess took the cue that the matter was closed and any further pushing would be unwise. “Shall I send you a letter for another meeting?”

 

“No. I have a lawyer; his office is in the city. Send it to Holsen and Calhoun.”

 

Anna breathed out in quiet relief. The conversation had gone well enough—everybody was still alive and intact. Perhaps she needn’t fear Elsa doing something she would regret.

 

“Very well.” Lady Charlotte’s attention turned to Anna, the topic of business done for the moment. “I don’t think I’ve given you my congratulations for your marriage yet, your highness. How are you finding it?”

 

“I’m happy,” Anna replied cautiously, wondering if there was some innuendo she was missing. “I mean, not that I have anything to compare to, but I am happy.”

 

“That’s lovely. Do color me curious; I’ve never encountered two married women before. I’m surprised neither of you have left for a honeymoon.”

 

Anna thought it was a minor miracle that her eyes did not roll in spectacular fashion in their sockets. “Because my wife is as high-strung as a racehorse at the gate,” Anna wanted to confide. “She didn’t think I wanted her to come with me on our honeymoon. I always thought Elsa was smart, but she really isn’t sometimes.”

 

Anna instead said, “We plan on going on one soon. We’re looking forward to it, since Elsa works and worries so much,” she said, tone heavy with meaning.

 

Elsa’s eyebrow twitched at her, but she remained judiciously silent.

 

Lady Charlotte’s eyes shifted between them speculatively. “I recommend Italy,” she said after a pause. “Florence is a treat this time of year. How is your Italian?”

 

“I’ve never been very good with languages. Elsa has always been better at that,” Anna admitted. They were discussing honeymoon plans with the countess, she thought with some bewilderment. It was better than the countess and Elsa sniping at each other, so Anna decided to continue with that line of conversation and hope she would not have to remain peacekeeper for long.

 

“My father was very strict about that. He used to start conversations in one language and wait for the correct response before continuing. I don’t think your parents were as firm about language,” Elsa said. While the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat, Elsa still looked to be on her guard.

 

“No, they weren’t. Florence does sound nice, it has beautiful architecture, doesn’t it? I’ve never been to any part of Italy.”

 

“It’s a beautiful city and a popular spot for summering nobility. The vineyards produce some of the finest wines you’ll ever taste. Very romantic.”

 

Anna didn’t know why, but her heart tripped at the thought of being entirely alone with Elsa in a romantic city. She’d seen Italian paintings before, pictures in books, as well as listened to stories of the life there. She could see red sun-drenched rooftops, great cathedrals and pavilions, and hills for those famous vineyards. What would Elsa be like if she were away from Arendelle? Away from work and reminders of her station? Would she enjoy the sedate pace of hot days, the long siestas in the shade?

 

“It would be a long voyage if you wanted to go, Anna,” Elsa said.

 

She wanted to ask if Elsa had anywhere she wanted to go, but she was aware of the countess’s eyes on them and that question felt very private.

 

Anna smiled and instead said, “Maybe.”

 

The door opened. The butler from earlier bowed deeply from the threshold and said, “Your majesty, his grace is now ready to see you. I can escort you to his study.”

 

When Anna got to her feet with Elsa, the butler cleared his throat, a deeply apologetic expression on his face. “I’m very sorry, your highness. The duke sends his deepest regrets that he could not receive you properly, but he stated he needed to speak with the queen alone first. He is not feeling well, thus his absence.”

 

Everybody in the room knew it was a lie. Elsa’s eyes went so flat and cold that the butler dropped into another bow with more apologies.

 

“Elsa, it’s fine,” Anna said, a hand touching the queen’s arm. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “We knew he might not want to see me first, so that isn’t a surprise. I’ll be fine here. Don’t make a scene on my behalf. Please.”

 

A long, tense moment passed, then Elsa’s shoulders just barely relaxed. “I won’t be long with the duke,” she said. Elsa nodded once, then strode after the butler and out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

 

“How interesting,” Lady Charlotte repeated.

 

Anna sat, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. “That we’re cozy?”

 

“Among other things.” She smiled at Anna and the expression looked more genuine than anything Anna had seen from her before. It softened her face, and made her beauty much warmer than before. Which, Anna supposed, was why the next words flattened her so.

 

“You have not consummated, have you?”

 

* * *

 

 

Elsa entered the duke’s stately study. It was considerably larger than her own study, the furnishings similar—all dark colors and distinctly masculine, the walls covered with fine art, but she had never liked the room. It felt too expansive and emphasized just how empty it was.

 

The Duke of Weselton rose and bowed from behind his desk, his head never dropping below the exact required amount of deference.

 

“Your majesty,” he greeted.

 

“Your grace,” Elsa returned. He waited for her to take a seat at his desk before also sitting. Elsa had to fight a smirk. The duke hated being reminded of his small stature. As she had approached the desk, she could see the irritation behind his spectacles at their height difference as he was forced to tilt his head.

 

“I appreciate your time, your majesty,” the duke said, his manner stiff as usual. “Especially coming on such short notice.”

 

“I’m grateful for your understanding and I apologize for the delay. I am aware that you may wish to return to your home estate rather than linger here given your... poor health. My recent wedding has occupied me.” The rebuff to Anna was still fresh on her mind and turned her polite smile razor sharp. “My wife was disappointed that she could not formally make your acquaintance.”

 

“The princess and I have been introduced before, though the meeting was brief,” Weselton said with a frown, ignoring the comment to his health.

 

“The princess _consort_ has not. But I’m sure once we’ve cleared away the business matters, we can remedy that.”

 

The duke knew better than to say anything beyond agreement, though the twitch of his moustache betrayed his discontent. “Of course, your majesty. I would be honored.”

 

Elsa opened the folder she had brought with her and removed several sheets of parchment, laying them flat on the desk. The desk was clear of the duke’s own files, which was unusual—the only thing she did recognize was a globe that she could have sworn had not budged from its spot in the past decade.

 

“I’ve reviewed Weselton’s financial reports from the previous years. I find the interest rates that were set six months ago would still fall within the acceptable range, given the contractual agreement between your businesses and Arendelle. Of course, if you find that a rate adjustment is warranted, I’m ready to see evidence supporting it.”

 

She waited. The duke _always_ had evidence for rate adjustment, but in spite of his contrary nature, Weselton did always pay on time. Much of Weselton’s properties were in the Netherlands, and his sudden need for funds had been triggered by the Belgian Revolution nine years ago. The southern provinces of the Netherlands had seceded to become the recently recognized Kingdom of Belgium. Several of Weselton’s profitable ventures had been in those southern provinces that had the gall to rebel; the duke had fought to not lose his business interests and properties, but to no avail. Weselton was forced to turn to Arendelle to take out several loans in order to rebuild what remained of the duchy’s fortune.

 

The old man was prideful, and it had to have stung to go to the man who’d spurned his daughter and dashed dreams of a joined royal line, Elsa thought. Her father had always conducted business with Weselton fairly, perhaps out of some guilt from what had happened with Weselton’s daughter. While Elsa did not enjoy the old duke’s company, she would also treat their business affairs fairly. So, she waited for the duke to begin his semi-annual quibbling, ready to deflect all of it.

 

“I find the rates fair as well,” Weselton said, to Elsa’s surprise.

 

She nearly replied with, “Well, that’s a first,” but managed to keep that to herself.

 

“You are certain, your grace?” She could hear the faint incredulity in her voice.

 

The duke nodded, his face impassive. “I do.”

 

Elsa blinked and looked down at the documents she had taken with her. She had expected to write notes all over them, but felt rather nonplussed seeing them blank before her. She slid the sheets back into her folder slowly.

 

“I see. Then our business is concluded?” If it was, it was the first time she’d be leaving the duke’s office within the hour. Astounding. She’d barely warmed her seat.

 

“Actually, I had a different matter I wished to discuss with you, your majesty.”

 

Well, there it was. Elsa wanted to sigh; she should have known better than to think she could escape early. “Yes?”

 

The duke adjusted his spectacles, and folded his hands before him on the desk. “As you know, I am grateful for Arendelle’s assistance, financially. I’m sure I am not alone when I say that part of Weselton’s survival has been due to Arendelle’s generosity.”

 

She felt her brow wrinkle at the words; the duke hated having to rely on anyone, and was even more reluctant to express gratitude. Suspicion crept up slowly, like encroaching ivy.

 

“I would say Weselton and Arendelle’s agreement has been mutually beneficial. Arendelle does not seek to profit from… misfortune,” she said. “Revolutions can be difficult to anticipate.”

 

“I would agree, your majesty,” the duke said, surprising her again. “Which is why I feel this should be brought to your attention. I understand that you are youthful. Your father was…” The duke just barely contained his grimace. “A good king,” he finished as if the words were being dragged out of him.

 

“I agree that my father was a good king,” Elsa said, her hands clenching in her lap. She knew she was young, but she would not tolerate insults to her family. If the duke did not amble to his point quickly, she would do it for him; it had not been nearly long enough since the countess had tested her patience.

 

“Instability within Arendelle would be disastrous. Arendelle does not have a particularly volatile history. But matters of accession are of utmost importance, as I’m sure you know. Especially if a ruler does not have popular support. Your father arranged for you to wed another woman, a princess of Corona, yes, but doing so has discounted the possibility of a blood heir, unless your marriage contract—”

 

Elsa slowly rose to her feet. The duke was still speaking, but it was a dull buzzing to her ears, like a gnat that needed to be swatted away. Her body felt strangely disconnected—she wondered if it was because of the raw rage that filled her head. Rage and complete and utter surprise.

 

No, the countess had not ambushed her, Elsa realized dazedly. The Duke of Weselton had. Weselton had the _gall_ to question her, to question her dead father, to question Arendelle’s future when he had no right, absolutely no right to _any of it_. He had the audacity to question her marriage to Anna, to _insult_ Anna. For an alarming instant, Elsa felt her control sliding precariously out of her grasp; until she thought of Anna.

 

Anna was here. Elsa found equal parts reassurance and helplessness in the thought of Anna. Even if she wanted to freeze the duke solid, she could not. She would not.

 

She would deal with the old duke, though.

 

“Your grace. I appreciate your… concern.” She felt stilted and brittle, ready to snap at the slightest hint of resistance. “But you see, the matter of my marriage is none of your concern. The matter of the next heir to Arendelle, to _my family_ , is none of your concern. What is your concern, that is—” Her jaw flexed. To think that she’d cared about what he thought of her, or what anyone thought of her. There was so much more at stake now, one of which was a mere floor away from her.

 

“Well, it is precious little. Little to do with the crown, anyway. I will hear no more of your concerns. We shall leave this room and you will properly greet Anna as my wife, the Princess Consort of Arendelle, and you will be respectful and you will never utter another word on this topic again. Do I make myself clear?”

 

The duke also rose to his feet and removed his spectacles, folding the wire frame together before placing it on his desk.

 

“Your majesty. With all due respect. I do not bring this matter up to displease, but if there is no blood heir, there could be upheaval and that’s not to say what other noble families with an interest in Arendelle might do. We have seen what it has done to my family and so many others.”

 

Elsa tilted her head at the duke. Her gaze was deliberately aimed down her nose to emphasize their height difference; petty as it was, she did not care. “I am not King William. And if you’ll recall, he lost half his kingdom because he was a despot who ignored the beggared lower class.”

 

“A dispute over heirs can do the same and you know this,” the duke insisted. “You must know this. If Arendelle were to crumble because of a populist uprising, which is within the realm of possibility even if the princess consort were to be the one to bear an heir—!”

 

“We will adopt,” Elsa heard herself say, distantly. “I will ensure the inheritance law is strengthened and passed by the Royal Council. As my father would have wanted.”

 

The duke looked horrified. “Adoption? For a _throne?_ Even if you had such a thing passed, it will not matter! Whoever you choose for an heir will always have a disputed claim to the throne. This may be acceptable for lesser nations, for lesser titles, but for Arendelle it is _not_. Arendelle is too great to fall, and there is much at stake, more than just Weselton! I promise you, if you seek to pass that law, I will fight it, and so will the members of the Council.”

 

She could feel her hackles rising at the challenge. Defenses and arguments welled up in her throat, mixed in with the anger. She had thought of the very same reasons before when she had doubted the betrothal and when she had doubted her father. But she would place her trust in her father and herself. She knew that because the duke was old and conservative, he would not listen. She had nothing to say to him. Nothing at all.

 

“You are right, your grace. There is much at stake; I’ve changed my mind,” Elsa said softly. She stripped off a glove and placed her palm over the smooth surface of the globe, her gaze locked with the old man before her. “There is no need for you to meet Anna. Do whatever you wish. I will do what I have been taught to do all my life. I will _rule_.”

 

When the door closed after the queen, the Duke of Weselton looked at his globe and found a layer of spiky frost lining its surface.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic and Rebecca Keys for their help beta-ing this chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

“You have not consummated, have you?”

 

A thick silence blanketed the room, like the fraught stillness after a gunshot. The feeling was even similar to being shot—not that Anna had ever been shot before. One of her less reputable suitors had gotten foxed at a party once, and had somberly recounted his experience with the irate husband of a lover. 

 

_“You don’t even feel it at first. But it hits hard and your body goes numb and you cannot comprehend that you’ve been dealt a wound. Then it hurts like the very devil and then you wonder how you ever thought any woman would be worth it.”_

He had been one of the more interesting suitors, Anna was forced to admit. Interesting, but also the kind of man her father and Kristoff would scowl deeply at. She didn’t really know why she had suddenly thought of him—perhaps his ill-repute reminded her of the countess’s.

 

In spite of the odd association, the analogy was appropriate: she had been struck in the most unexpected way, and left at a loss. One moment, they’d been talking of honeymoon plans and the next… She stared at Lady Charlotte and said nothing. The numbness seemed to have spread to her vocal functions.

 

That was apparently confirmation enough for the countess. “Ah,” she said.

 

What did that even _mean_? Her control was being tested, deliberately or not, Anna would not give in to the temptation to get up and leave the room. She thought of Elsa and her icy control instead.

 

Lady Charlotte found herself looking at a mirror of the queen in Anna’s face. Her eyes, a lighter shade of blue than her royal spouse’s, were narrowed and cool. Her jaw was set into a tense angle and her mouth a flat line.

 

Lady Charlotte leaned back and smiled faintly. “I’ve offended you.”

 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Anna said, a distinct chill in her voice. She’d handled traps and snares veiled as polite conversation before. “It is none of your concern. Please refrain from addressing it with me.”

 

“I didn’t mean to offend, but I do prefer being direct. I could help you,” the countess persisted, uncowed.

 

“I don’t need your help with anything—” The countess gave her such a blandly superior look that Anna immediately clapped her mouth shut.

 

“Is that why your marriage remains unconsummated? Why, I’d have wagered that you two would have been on each other like animals on the wedding night. I am rarely wrong in these things—it comes with my trade.”

 

Anna nearly blushed to her hairline; the countess wasn’t wrong—she and Elsa _had_ been on each other like animals on the night of their wedding. It’d only been Elsa’s stubbornness that had prevented them from doing more, something which Anna still wasn’t sure how she felt about. The disappointment that night had been keen, but she did not regret their decision to wait… did she?

 

“Ah,” Lady Charlotte said again, the gleam in her eye making the hair on Anna’s skin stand on end with premonition.

 

“What?” Anna snapped, her temper fraying.

 

The countess waved a hand and covered her mouth in a gesture that looked far too much like she was containing mirth. “Nothing, your highness. Forgive me. I was just… reminiscing. About what it was like to be so… young.” Her green eyes lingered over Anna’s plaits that said exactly where the notion of youth had originated. Anna knew the way she wore her braids was not exactly the height of fashion, but it was just how she’d always worn her hair. It was practical for riding and habitual and _damn_ the countess for making her feel adolescent for how she wore her own hair. She had never felt so reduced before.

 

Then the countess’s shoulders gave a telling little shake like the coup de grâce of this farce; her hand smothering laughter and making absolutely nothing better.

 

It was utterly humiliating. A complete _stranger_ had seen through her and correctly surmised something they had no business knowing; Anna was certain her face was bright enough to be visible from the moon. She wasn’t used to being so thoroughly mocked—the countess was simply so blatant about it—and she regretted every instance when she’d taken advantage of Elsa’s formidable pride. Anna was capable of royal hauteur, but Elsa’s brand of it was another thing entirely—most people didn’t even know they’d been insulted when Elsa turned her attention on them. Anna wished for Elsa’s talent for subtle disdain more than ever, instead of the speechless, indignant state she was currently languishing in.

 

“I would ask if there might be some… performance anxiety involved, but perhaps that isn’t quite applicable in your case. That particular issue is usually a male one.” Lady Charlotte peered at Anna’s face. “I am curious as to what the problem is. I thought you both looked quite happy during your wedding and the party. Perhaps you’ve discovered something truly unappealing about the queen? Or maybe you prefer men?”

 

Anna opened her mouth with a ready denial to both questions, but she knew in the same instant that it wasn’t entirely true—she really had never thought of women before Elsa. Even now after all those kisses, she still didn’t think of women that way; she just thought of _Elsa_ that way.

 

“Would you have preferred if the queen were a king instead?” The countess asked, the question surprisingly gentle.

 

“No,” Anna found herself saying. “I like Elsa as she is. I don’t want to change her.”

 

“Not even the worst traits or habits?”

 

She wanted to say that Elsa didn’t have any bad habits or traits, but that wasn’t true either. Elsa was high-strung, had a probable penchant to prefer work over sleep, and regarded all horses with narrow-eyed suspicion. Elsa also had an infuriating habit of thinking she knew better than everyone else, which, Anna supposed, was expected for a queen, but certainly not acceptable when applied to their marriage. Anna had made herself very clear to Elsa what her opinion was on that particular quirk. Elsa wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, of that Anna could be certain.

 

“No. I wouldn’t change anything about Elsa,” Anna said with the certainty of a childhood friendship, four days of marriage, and a lifetime of more to come. She’d never been more sure of that than anything else in her life.

 

“You’re lucky. Most married couples always have something to say about their spouses. Though you _are_ a newlywed, so perhaps you’re still a bit starstruck—”

 

Anna scowled at Lady Charlotte. “Are you determined to make me find fault in Elsa? Because you won’t succeed.”

 

“Oh, not at all. I was just surprised at your certainty that you find nothing objectionable. Of course, speaking ill of others while they are not present is hardly polite. Forgive me.”

 

Anna stared. She was being baited and it wasn’t even very subtle, but the urge to answer with something acerbic was great. “I agree. It’s not very polite,” Anna said in lieu of insult.

 

Lady Charlotte looked almost… _approving_ of her answer. “The same,” she began, her green eyes sharp on Anna’s face, “can be said of the dead. My husband was murdered.”

 

Anna started and drew back, eyes wide. “My condolences,” she managed. This was certainly not proper conversation, she thought, her mind scrambling. Not that anything else said before was either, but the shift had been so abrupt and jarring that she found herself floundering once again. Etiquette lessons were failing her—she could not recall a single instance where Master Flynn might have mentioned murdered husbands as a possible topic.

 

The countess acknowledged that with a nod, her smile never moving. “It was some years ago. He was a very handsome and charming man. A spendthrift and a wastrel, though.”

 

She had no idea how to respond to that, nor did she have any notion of where the countess wanted to lead them. To her shame, she struggled between sympathy and distrust before settling on the former.

 

“Do you miss him?” Anna asked carefully.

 

Lady Charlotte paused. “I think you may be the first person to ask me that in some time,” she finally said, her smile slipping just a little. “I do, yes.”

 

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Anna said, more heartfelt than before.

 

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, your highness. He died over a gambling debt.” The countess’s voice turned sardonic. “Murdered over money, just because he didn’t have any. Some debt collectors prefer you pay with your life rather than with promises.”

 

Anna shifted uncomfortably, wondering if that dart had been calculated to land where she thought it was. “I’m sorry for your loss, but why are you telling me this? I didn’t know your husband.”

 

“To help you with your queen. I don’t advise waiting before seizing what you want. You think there will be more time, but sometimes there isn’t any before the people you love are taken from you.”

 

“Elsa is hardly going to be knifed in a back alley,” Anna said before she could stop herself. She could feel her face paling the instant the words left her mouth.

 

The countess’s brows lifted, her expression bemused. “No, I doubt queens are often found in back alleys, but my point still stands. If it’s instruction that is keeping you from enjoying the evenings, I would certainly be able to provide… guidance.”

 

Her face instantly flamed. Anna’s immediate reaction was to tell the countess where she could put her “guidance,” but the second, infinitely more alarming reaction was an overwhelming curiosity.

 

Before she could swallow the ball of trepidation that had lodged in her throat, the door opened with Elsa at the threshold. 

 

“Anna. We are leaving,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a growl. Her eyes flicked from Anna’s face to Lady Charlotte, her expression darkening at what she saw. “What did you do?”

 

The countess smiled back at her, toothy as a crocodile. “A favor on your behalf.” To Anna, she said, “I hope you’ll take my words to heart, your highness. Perhaps I’ll even address a letter or two to you myself if Queen Elsa is unappreciative of my efforts.”

 

Fury leapt into Elsa’s eyes. She started forward with icy intent, murder clear on her face.

 

“Let’s go now, Elsa,” Anna said loudly before Elsa could make the countess pay in a more permanent manner. She caught Elsa by the elbow and forcibly towed her out of the room, past the butler holding the door open, and outside to where the carriage was waiting. Elsa was strangely silent and very stiff, which was deeply worrying; Anna could only imagine the meeting with the duke had not gone as planned if her reaction to the countess was a sign.

 

Anna looked back when Elsa did not climb into the carriage after her.

 

“You go ahead. Back to the castle. I need to speak with Holsen.” Elsa’s jaw was tense, her eyes shuttered. Even the cant of her shoulders looked uncomfortably rigid.

 

“What? How are you going to get there? I’ll come with you.”

 

“I’ll walk. His office is a few blocks away. Go home, I’ll see you in a few hours.” There was a discernible chill in her voice and demeanor, something that had not been there before. Anna knew immediately that she should not leave Elsa alone. She left the carriage and planted herself next to Elsa.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Anna repeated.

 

A dark scowl formed on Elsa’s brow. “Anna, I don’t—” She breathed in sharply and turned her face away.

 

“I don’t think I’m the best kind of company right now,” Elsa finished, her tone strained. “I’m not— You should go home. Your parents. They’re leaving tomorrow and I don’t know how long I’ll be. You should—”

 

“Elsa, stop it. I’m coming with you.” Heedless of the mounted guards, Anna drew Elsa into a quick hug. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Elsa. I don’t want to fight in front of other people,” Anna whispered, her tone firm.

 

Elsa drew back to look at Anna, her scowl still present, then her breath came out in a sigh. “All right. I don’t want to take the carriage. It’s—confining and I’m—”

 

“It’s fine, Elsa. The driver can just wait for us outside Holsen’s office.” The driver obeyed without another word and flicked his whip over the horses, but the guards were less cooperative. The officer on duty refused to leave them to wander the city alone until Elsa allowed them to stay; her assent was accompanied with an irritable snap threatening conscripted service into the Royal Navy if they protested any further. She ordered them to maintain a decorous distance in exchange for their presence; they reluctantly obeyed, organizing themselves with two men riding ahead and the last two at the rear. The square was largely devoid of people as they set off, but they would encounter more people as they traveled deeper into the city. The guards looked alert of that fact, their gazes sweeping the streets for large crowds.

 

“What happened with the duke, Elsa?”

 

Elsa glanced at the guards even though they were far enough to not make out any conversation. “I don’t particularly want to talk about it, Anna.”

 

“Then why are we going to Holsen?”

 

“I want to know how much of a fuss I’ll cause if I have him ejected from the kingdom.”

 

Anna turned wide eyes on Elsa. “Are you—Elsa, are you _serious_?”

 

Elsa glanced at Anna, her face inscrutable. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Elsa, what did he _say_ to you?”

 

“I’d prefer not to discuss it here.”

 

“Why? Because we’re in public? There’s nobody around and the guards can’t hear us.”

 

Elsa stopped short and rounded on Anna, her temper almost visibly fraying before Anna’s eyes. “He had the unmitigated gall to tell me that we should not have married,” Elsa spat. “He told me that I could not choose my heir. He questioned my authority in my own kingdom. And he threatened a political fight with the Royal Council should I exercise my authority.” Elsa’s voice was low, but Anna could feel the fire behind each word. “I will _remove_ him in the way I deem fit, Anna. I will not bend on this, so do not attempt it.”

 

Anna was shocked at what Elsa had relayed, but that part wasn’t what had her attention. She met Elsa’s gaze and asked, “What makes you think I would try to stop you?”

 

Elsa stared at her. Slowly, composure returned until she was able to speak without shaking with suppressed anger. “I don’t know,” Elsa said with a distinctly cautious air, much like how she used to approach her old cranky pony. “Your gentle, giving nature, perhaps?”

 

Anna aimed an exasperated look at her. “I’m hardly a saint, Elsa. I don’t expect you to be one either. Did the duke really say all that to you? That we shouldn’t have married?”

 

Elsa’s jaw flexed. “There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, Anna.”

 

“Why did he say it? He’s a duke, but you’re the queen, Elsa. He’s not even a peer of the realm.”

 

“He said it was because of heirs, that people wouldn’t accept us adopting. An adopted heir might have a disputed claim.” Elsa made an irritated sound. “I don’t know what he thinks, probably that if I can’t rule because I’m busy dealing with rebellions, then he has to worry about how much he owes the kingdom.’

 

Anna suddenly felt cold. It was exactly what Elsa had said when they’d fought about the marriage contract, and to hear it from another peer, a duke—”Elsa, what does that mean? You said we would adopt, are you going to change your mind—”

 

“‘Change my mind’?” Elsa looked offended, drawing up to her full height like a spitting cobra. “‘ _Change my mind’_? Because some foreigner duke thinks I cannot run my own country? Because he thinks he knows who I ought to marry and who my successor should be?” Elsa sneered magnificently, utter contempt written into every line of her face. Anna had never seen arrogance framed so spectacularly; she could have kissed that sneer right off Elsa’s face if it weren’t for the relief that flooded her. “The nerve of the man, Anna, the utter nerve of that _ass_. If he wasn’t a duke, I’d have had him trussed up like a game pheasant and displayed over the damned square for everybody to—”

 

Anna could bear it no longer. She didn’t care about the guards or passerby, nor the fact that they were standing in broad daylight and what she was about to do might not be entirely welcome; Elsa couldn’t expect her to just stand there and not kiss her. Anna brought Elsa’s face down with a hand around the back of her neck and laid her lips against that mouth. Elsa made a startled noise that sounded like a squeak, her tirade cut short. Anna let the kiss linger until Elsa began to quiver.

 

When they parted, Elsa was red and battling embarrassment, glancing pointedly at the guards. “Anna, we’re outside, you can’t just—do that. People will—they’ll— ”

 

“What, see me kissing you?” Anna was amused. “I think they’ll be too busy marveling at how red you are rather than worrying about impropriety.”

 

Elsa gave her a helpless look. “You know very well it’s not appropriate,” she hissed.

 

“There’s nobody around. The nearest person is down that street, and look, the guards know what they’re about.”

 

Elsa looked. Their escorts had maintained the mandatory distance, but shifted to position their horses to obscure the view of any passerby. The guards were also carefully avoiding looking at their charges as well, their eyes studiously cast somewhere about the horizon. Good god. The castle was going to be teeming with gossip the instant they returned.

 

“Some warning next time, please,” was the best Elsa could come up with.

 

Anna smiled at her, but it slipped as she asked, “Elsa, do you think what the duke said has any merit? That people wouldn’t accept an adopted heir?”

 

Elsa studied her. Gently, Elsa clasped her hands about Anna’s wrists and brought their hands down between them. Her gloved hands were cool, but warming again. “Were you afraid that I would go back on my word about adoption?”

 

“At first,” Anna admitted. “I know the line of succession isn’t a trivial thing, but I hadn’t thought about it before the wedding—about what it would mean for me, that is. I just thought that people would accept adoption the same way they did the betrothal.”

 

Elsa looked away meaningfully. “Let’s not stand here in the middle of the street,” she said. “I want to see Holsen before it gets late.”

 

They walked with Anna’s hand tucked under Elsa’s arm. Most of the people they passed were startled at the sight of the queen and princess consort apparently enjoying an afternoon stroll, but no large crowds formed. People simply smiled and waved and then went along their way.

 

“I’ve given it some thought after our… argument. The matter of adoption,” Elsa began.

 

Anna looked askance at Elsa. “Yes?”

 

“In response to your earlier question—ultimately, no, I don’t think the duke’s opinion has much weight. I am the queen. It is my prerogative to choose a successor and Weselton has no right or place in my decision-making. As for what the kingdom thinks… Well, that I am a bit less sure about. The fact that my father had drawn up a draft to allow adoption would indicate he thought it would be acceptable. That’s also why I want to see Holsen—to get that draft and see what my father might have written on it.” Elsa met Anna’s eyes. “I won’t go back on my word. I made a promise to you and I will keep it.”

 

Anna leaned her shoulder against Elsa in a nudge. “But do you want it? Adoption?”

 

“With you, yes.”

 

Anna looked up at the certainty she heard in Elsa’s voice. “What if you could have your own children, though? Barring worries about your powers being passed on. You said you put that clause in because you thought I wanted to have my own children. What about you?”

 

It was a long moment before Elsa answered, and when she did, each word was said with great care. “I’m not sure. I’ve always thought, well, my powers. They shouldn’t be passed on, but if I had a choice… that, I have never considered before. The only thought I’ve had about our marriage was how… easy it would have been if I were a man. How it would resolve many obstacles, ones that we are seeing now. There wouldn’t be idiot dukes confronting me about my successor, for one.”

 

Anna smiled at the irritated tone and decided to steer the conversation down a friendlier road. “If you were a man, we could have children, true. What if you were a man with ice magic? Would you still have wanted children?”

 

Anna had the rare pleasure of watching Elsa’s jaw going slack. “I don’t know,” Elsa managed. “I just—yes, it’d be easier, the heir matter would have been taken care of, but the powers—” Elsa frowned as her eyes took on a contemplative look.

 

“I’d have wanted a little blonde girl who would look just like you,” Anna said

 

Elsa gave a surprised laugh. “If I were a man, I don’t think I’d want my daughter to look like me. She should look like you, her mother. Beautiful and sweet-tempered.”

 

It was Anna’s turn to laugh, her cheeks warming at the compliment. “‘Beautiful and sweet-tempered’?”

 

“Mm, yes. Perhaps not your sense of grace, though; I imagine our daughter wouldn’t wish to trip on her way to the altar.” Elsa grinned when Anna gave her arm a deservedly good pinch.

 

“I can’t imagine you as a man, though,” Anna said, her eyes on Elsa’s face. “You’re just—you.” Even if many of her mannerisms had been inherited from her father, Elsa’s bearing was distinctly her own.

 

Elsa glanced at Anna as though she could read her thoughts. “I don’t harbor any desire to be a man. Being a man might have made things easier in some ways, but I’m not unhappy that I’m a woman. I suppose I have my mother to thank for that. She made sure my father didn’t make me do nothing but study. My mother wanted me to do things that I liked outside of lessons, like art.” Elsa smiled. “My father had a more visible influence on my life, but my mother had just as strong an influence, if more subtle.”

 

“I wouldn’t change you,” Anna repeated, remembering what she’d told the countess. “I think you’re fine as you are.”

 

“Not even my occasionally sour temperament?”

 

“It gives you character,” Anna stoutly said, recognizing a trap when she saw one. 

 

“Ah, well. I must have plenty of character for you to admire, then.”

 

Anna laughed at the arid tone, not at all tempted to take the proffered bait. “Well, I am apparently sweet-tempered, so that should make up for your lack of it.”

 

“A fine match we are,” Elsa replied. “I daresay my father had no idea how fantastically well-suited we would be when he arranged our marriage.”

 

“Maybe he did. I always thought your father knew just about everything.”

 

“You wouldn’t be alone in that assessment. I also thought he was omniscient, to a point.” Elsa suddenly frowned at her. “Anna, what did the countess say to you? If I’m going to deport a duke, it would be child’s play for me to kick the countess out, too. I might even save myself the fare and put them on the same ship since they obviously enjoy each other’s company.”

 

Anna laughed, delighted at the alliteration. “Deporting dukes and kicking countesses? Elsa, I think you are clever sometimes.”

 

To Elsa’s credit, her eyes did not roll, but an imperious eyebrow did twitch at Anna. “I live to serve, your highness. Even if all that is required is some simple word play and an even simpler mind to enjoy it.”

 

Anna smacked Elsa’s arm. “Elsa! I was complimenting you.”

 

“It was as backhanded as that blow. I have witnesses of your assault on my person this time.” Elsa eyed Anna. “But really, what did the countess say to you? You looked upset when I came in. She said something about doing me a favor and favors from that type usually aren’t, at all.”

 

What to say? Anna pondered it, chewing her lip as she did so. If she gave the word, Elsa would follow through with her threat and have Lady Charlotte removed on the next available ship. That prospect was not entirely unwelcome, but Anna felt… _responsible_. She was already uncomfortable with the thought of exercising power like that, even if it was warranted in some way. Perhaps Elsa was right—maybe she did have a kind nature that made her reluctant to exact retribution for slights.

 

“She didn’t say much,” Anna said. She was _lying_ to Elsa, even after all that talk about not keeping things from each other, but she could hardly tell Elsa that the countess knew intimate details about them. “She… she told me a little bit about her husband,” Anna hedged.

 

“Her husband?”

 

“How he was killed over a gambling debt.”

 

Elsa’s head whipped to Anna. “She talked to you about her husband’s _murder._ ”

 

“Not the murder itself! It was for advice. She misses him,” Anna protested. “I think she loved him.”

 

Elsa’s expression remained dubious. “What kind of advice was she giving, exactly?”

 

“Just… about people being taken away too quickly. Like her husband.”

 

Something dark passed over Elsa’s face, like flickered shadow from a wind-blown flame. “I see,” Elsa said. Too late did Anna realize where Elsa’s thoughts had immediately gone.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—I mean, I don’t think the countess had meant your parents.”

 

“No, I doubt she did,” Elsa said. They stopped before a stately townhouse with a gold-lettered plaque that read _The Law Offices of Holsen & Calhoun_. “But we’ll speak more on that later.”

 

* * *

 

 

While the guards waited outside, a secretary showed them to Holsen’s office.

 

“Your majesty,” Holsen greeted with a bow. He was already standing by his desk with two chairs pulled out. His suit was impeccable as usual, though there were signs that his desk had been hastily cleared away for their arrival. “A lovely surprise to see you and the princess consort again.”

 

“I apologize for the unannounced meeting and if I've interrupted anything,” Elsa said as she and Anna took their seats. “I’ve a matter of some importance to speak to you about. I’ll try to keep this brief.”

 

“Of course,” Holsen replied, settling behind his desk. “How may I be of assistance?”

 

While Elsa recounted the conversation with the duke again, Anna found her attention drifting to her spouse. Elsa was calmer than she had been before, but there was still a shimmer of anger in the set of her jaw and the angle of her brows. Even her pale hair seemed to embody her crackling energy, the thick tresses flowing and fluttering with every toss and jerk of Elsa’s head.

 

Elsa just looked so alive. How could Elsa have ever thought she was boring? She radiated with vitality and purpose in a way that Anna had never seen before. What had changed? Anna wondered. Elsa looked no different than before—she was still beautiful as ever, a fact that nobody could miss—yet there was a prickling awareness of everything that Elsa meant to her, and how all of it belonged to her. Elsa was hers by name and much more—Anna _knew_ that Elsa loved her, even if she didn’t know how she had come to earn that love.

 

Maybe that was it, Anna realized. Elsa was fighting for them. Not for duty, not for legacy, but for them. There was a determination in her eyes, a honed focus that Anna had only seen when Elsa played chess with her father and scented victory. Only, Anna didn’t think Elsa felt close to victory this time; Elsa wasn’t going to fight because she thought she was going to win—Elsa was going to fight _to_ win. If she needed proof of Elsa’s feelings, it was right there before her eyes.

 

But why hadn’t Elsa said anything yet? Was Elsa planning on never telling her, or even waiting for her to say something first? Anna resisted pressing her hand to her aching temple. She had thought, naively, that love was supposed to be easy and uncomplicated; after all, if both people loved each other, they’d say it to one another and that was that, wasn’t it?

 

“The timing is most suspect,” Holsen began once Elsa had finished. “As you noted, there are some indications that the duke’s comments are unlikely to be completely selfless. The duke never aired any misgivings to the renewed betrothal announcement a year ago. To do so now does invite some skepticism.”

 

“Nobody did say anything before,” Elsa replied. “As far as I know, nobody breathed a word to my father when he announced it nearly five years ago.”

 

“Not even petty gossip?” Holsen asked.

 

“The aristocracy will always gossip,” Elsa said dismissively. “They can talk themselves blue in the face for how much their pettiness means to me. They know well enough to continue keeping their mouths shut in my presence.”

 

Elsa exhaled, her jaw clenched. “Holsen, there is the matter of tradition with blood heirs, but some of these people have forgotten that I am the queen. If I wanted to entertain myself and appoint my wife’s bloody horse as my new head advisor, it is entirely within my right to do so.”

 

Holsen chuckled. “If you so wished, your majesty, nobody would gainsay your right to it, though they may be dismayed at your choice. Jests aside, if we were to lend some credit to the duke’s concerns, I don’t believe that any peer will resist your plan for adoption. If there were no protests prior to the betrothal announcement, and up to your wedding, then I see no cause for concern.”

 

“I think some may have been assuming that Anna would… bear an heir,” Elsa said, exchanging a glance with Anna.

 

Holsen’s brow furrowed. “That’s not always the case with marriages such as yours. It cannot be expected.”

 

“It shouldn’t have been an expectation, but nonetheless, it may have become one.”

 

“Some of the more traditional families may take issue, I imagine. If they do, they would most likely do so privately—as newly crowned as you are, your majesty, no forward-thinking lord should wish to earn the displeasure of the crown. The matter of accession also falls within the jurisdiction of the royal family and the Royal Council. Your father and I had discussed this at some length, your majesty.”

 

“My father?” Elsa repeated. “He spoke in detail about this?”

 

“Yes, your majesty. We agreed that most of the populace would be unlikely to reject an adopted heir; adoption is already a common enough practice amongst the lower class. It was only a matter of passing the law as a way of announcing your intent to adopt, as well as to preempt the unlikely event of a far-flung relative attempting to lay claim to the throne.”

 

Elsa sat back heavily, heart pounding. It shouldn’t have affected her so much given she had already known the truth from Alice. It was nothing more than supporting evidence of a truth she knew, but it was another thing to hear Holsen say that her father had spoken about adoption. It ached that it had taken this long for her to find the truth, to have carried the pain and uncertainty that she had been unworthy to her father’s eyes for nothing—all because of death and self-doubt. She started when she felt a warm hand grip her own. Anna was smiling gently at her.

 

The wordless gesture was both intimate and comforting. The tension drained out of her, leaving her limbs relaxed and her breathing easier. Elsa freed her hand, turned it palm up gripped Anna’s hand in gratitude. Somehow, her father had known what Anna meant to her. He had defied everything to make their marriage possible and Elsa was not going to squander this chance.

 

She was not going to give Anna up.

 

Holsen watched the queen and princess consort for a moment, before he opened a drawer and placed a folder on the desk before Elsa. “It’s the draft of the new inheritance law your father wrote. I was going to have it sent over today, but you arrived before I could do so.”

 

Elsa’s hand was remarkably steady as she touched the edge of the folder. It had to have been one of the last things her father worked on before his death, and to have it before her, to know that inside she would find his notes on the margins, his corrections and bold slashes through unnecessary words—Elsa swallowed.

 

“Thank you, Holsen,” Elsa said. She would not read it here, a fact that Holsen seemed to sense.

 

“I am glad that I could be of help. Now, in regard to your desire to expel the duke from the kingdom, I would not suggest it. I would recommend waiting to see what his grace actually does if you allow him to stay.”

 

Elsa was silent as she contemplated it.

 

Anna finally spoke. “That makes some sense,” she said, frowning. “The duke doesn’t like you or Arendelle, so why would it matter to him if you did something he disapproved of? He doesn’t stand to gain anything from making you angry.”

 

“He was talking about unrest if I adopted. But as we discussed, even if there were some kind of crisis, it’s not likely to be violent. At worst, there’d be some nobles grumbling about it, but it is my choice who my successor should be,” Elsa said, her eyes falling back on the folder. “My father could have done the same to me. If he thought I was unfit, he could have made it so that I would not have inherited and the throne would have been passed down to whoever he wanted.”

 

“With any other prince or princess, they would have fought to regain their birthright,” Holsen pointed out. “I do not think you would have done the same, your majesty.”

 

“I made sure I earned my birthright. My father valued merit and ability, not parentage.” Elsa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “As much as I’d like to have the duke forcibly escorted to the docks, I see your point. I’ve no idea why Weselton wanted to antagonize me unless he thought I would be weak-willed enough to allow him to prod me like a zoo animal. I’ll call a session with the Council as well.”

 

“A sound course of action. If you wish, I will have Calhoun acquaint himself with the duke.”

 

Elsa smiled in spite of herself—Calhoun’s method of “acquainting” himself to people included digging up disconcertingly personal details that were more often than not completely irrelevant. She never knew how serious Calhoun was when he relayed those sorts of things or if he simply enjoyed shocking people, like a dog presenting its master with a particularly awful—and very dead—toy. “Please. I understand there may be a delay given Calhoun is occupied with the countess.”

 

“He has to earn his salary some time,” Holsen replied, his face entirely serious. 

 

The meeting concluded with Holsen showing them out to their waiting carriage. Elsa sat with the folder laid carefully on her lap, a hand laid over the leather cover.

 

“What are you going to do, Elsa?” Anna asked, leaning against Elsa’s shoulder. Elsa rested her arm around Anna’s shoulders with a faint smile.

 

“I haven’t changed my mind, Anna. I’m going to make sure I finish what my father started. And if anybody tries to stop me, they can pitch themselves off the North Mountain with my blessing.”

 

Anna chuckled at the image. “With just your blessing?”

 

“I suppose I could make their flight more comfortable with a helpful boot. I endeavor to please and serve.” Elsa’s tone was dry as sawdust.

 

“What changed, Elsa?” Anna asked after a pause. “Just a few days ago, you were convinced that an adopted heir wasn’t acceptable at all. You wanted to send me off to find some man or other—”

 

Elsa angled her head down until her nose was buried in warm, copper hair. “Because I thought I wasn’t anything but everybody else’s wants and expectations, Anna,” Elsa murmured, her breath warm against Anna’s temple. “It didn’t matter what I wanted. It mattered what my father wanted, what the kingdom wanted, what you wanted. What I wanted… never played a role in any of my decisions.”

 

“Elsa,” Anna sighed deeply. “You can’t be selfless all the time. Nobody can be like that.”

 

“I know. I realized my mistake.” Elsa tightened her hold on Anna when she started to shift. “No, let me finish. My mistake was that I thought I knew what everybody wanted. I thought my father wanted me to think of nothing but Arendelle. I thought the kingdom wanted a blood heir. And I thought you wanted someone else, and a different life. But I was wrong. And I’m almost never wrong,” Elsa added, sounding rather peeved for what should have been a valuable lesson in hubris.

 

Anna drew back to narrow her eyes at Elsa and was only half-serious when she answered. “How very big of you to admit that you don’t know everything. Did that fall from your high horse hurt much? Because now you have to live amongst us lesser mortals and—”

 

Elsa laughed, the sound full and rich. The queen pulled Anna back into a hug, pressing Anna’s face into the crook of her shoulder to muffle the tart words. “Shh. No, it didn’t hurt very much, though I appreciate your concern. I had a very good teacher who showed me how to take a tumble off a horse,” Elsa placated with a very wide and unapologetic grin that Anna would have been tempted to smack off her face if she could see it.

 

“You’re lucky you’re the queen,” Anna muttered, her face tucked against Elsa’s neck. She breathed in Elsa’s scent, her lashes brushing against pale skin as her eyes slid shut. “I think it’s the only reason anyone tolerates you. That, and your good looks.”

 

Laughter resounded through Elsa’s chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been put in my place so skillfully. Well done, your highness.”

 

“I also endeavor to please and serve,” Anna said with an eyeroll, even though Elsa couldn’t see it.

 

Anna could tell Elsa was grinning at her response, until Elsa said something that made her eyes roll even more dramatically: “You think I have good looks?”

 

“I suppose they could be improved with a potato sack over your head, I mean, you do ride like one—” She was interrupted by an uncouth yelp of laughter as gloved fingers dug into her side. Anna lurched gracelessly away from Elsa’s hand, alternating between frantic laughter and protests. Elsa refused to release Anna, her grip surprisingly strong as she doggedly enacted retribution.

 

“Elsa! Stop it, we’re in a carriage!” Anna pleaded breathlessly, red in the face and hair askew.

 

“You started it. I was only exercising my sovereign right to stop slander.” But Elsa stopped, her hands smoothing Anna’s thrashed skirts flat. “Besides, I think we’ve done much worse things in a carriage.” She had meant her tone to be light, but it had come out rough enough to have Anna looking at her from beneath thick lashes that put fire in her veins.

 

“We’re in a carriage,” Elsa repeated weakly, the irony not lost on her. She should have been alarmed at how little it took for them to reach that point—one moment, sweetness and laughter, and the next, just—so much heat.

 

Anna paid her no mind and laid her hands over the slope of Elsa’s shoulders, fingers fanning over shoulder blades. Elsa shook underneath her palms and glanced out the window to distract herself—they weren’t quite out of the city yet, but they would be soon. She opened her mouth to protest.

 

“I’m only touching you, Elsa. As you said, we’ve done much worse things,” Anna said, her voice husky and her eyes dark. “Do you remember? It was only a few days ago that we got married, but it feels like it’s been so long. You had that military uniform on, with the epaulettes over your shoulders.”

 

“I remember.” The memory of that carriage ride had been seared into her brain; Elsa was certain nothing short of a traumatic boulder drop to the head would be enough to erase it. “You were beautiful in your wedding dress. I don’t think I told you, but you were. I wanted—” If they were going to be brutally honest, Elsa had wanted it anywhere but on Anna during that cruelly short ride. “I wanted that day to be perfect for you,” Elsa said instead, because that felt very safe and was also true. 

 

Anna’s eyes went wide. “It was our day,” she said, her face sober. “ _We_ got married. Not just me.”

 

“I know. But that was still my motivation.”

 

Anna was silent. “And has that changed? Your motivations.”

 

Elsa knew Anna wasn’t asking about the wedding anymore. She considered her answer and answered carefully. “Yes, I think they have. When I said I thought I knew what everyone wanted, but I never thought about what I wanted. I don’t want to think about everybody else anymore, Anna.” Elsa held a copper plait between her fingers, her thumb brushing over the end. “I want to chase my own happiness for once.”

 

Elsa looked a little amazed at her own words, so Anna leaned in to kiss her gently. “You deserve to be happy, Elsa. You deserve… everything.”

 

The carriage came to a stop before Elsa could answer.

 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Elsa said once they were standing outside, the folder under her arm. “I want to take a little time to read this.”

 

Anna knew Elsa wanted to be alone to do that, and nodded with a smile. “Until dinner, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

While Elsa left for her study, Anna headed to her room and found Gerda in the midst of delivering a wrapped package.

 

“A messenger came saying this was for you,” Gerda said with a frown. “He was very insistent that it was only to come to you.”

 

Anna hefted the package. It was wrapped in plain paper with twine and no signs of who the sender was, but the shape and weight indicated a box of some kind. “Did he say who sent it?”

 

“He didn’t.”

 

Anna had a good idea of who had sent it and had no wish to confirm her suspicions before an audience. She deliberately set it aside on her dresser, much to Gerda’s disappointment. “Thank you, Gerda,” Anna said pointedly.

 

Gerda remained unmoved, but her expression softened from blatant curiosity to matronly interest. “Did you enjoy your outing today?”

 

“It wasn’t really an outing, Gerda. It was just a business meeting with a duke, and then an unscheduled one with Holsen.”

 

“I thought I heard you two had enjoyed a nice walk in the city as well,” Gerda countered with a sly look.

 

Anna gazed at Gerda, nonplussed. Astonishing—the castle gossip had beaten her to her own room. Granted, she had taken a detour to the stables to see if her parents had returned yet, but it still defied reasonable expectation. “We did,” Anna hazarded, wary of fishing expeditions. “Elsa wanted to walk.”

 

To Anna’s horror, unshed tears shined over Gerda’s eyes. A pang of guilt lodged itself into her chest that rendered her feeling clumsy and confused. Anna immediately started patting her pockets for a handkerchief and silently cursed her inability to ever have one available. She wished desperately for Elsa, who would undoubtedly have the right words and an arsenal of personal cloths. “Ah, Gerda, I’m sorry, was it something I said? I didn’t mean to—”

 

“No, no, it’s not you, my dear,” Gerda interrupted, forestalling further apologies. The housekeeper dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief fished out from her apron. “It would never be you.”

 

“Oh. All right.” Anna fidgeted, feeling very young and helpless. “Should I… should I leave?”

 

Gerda gave a mighty sniffle, but shook her head. “No, forgive me. It’s just… I’m so happy.”

 

Anna gave her a dubious look. “Happy?”

 

“Yes. I’ve never seen my little girl so happy before. Not in years.” Gerda cupped Anna’s face with warm hands and smiled. “You did that for her. I knew you would be good for her and I was right.”

 

“Oh. You mean—Elsa?” Anna flushed as the full import of Gerda’s words sank in. “I—really? I make her that happy?”

 

“I can’t even remember the last time she went out for a walk, or much less a ride!” Gerda said, blowing her nose as she did so. “All it’s been since the old king and queen passed, may God rest their souls, is work and wedding arrangements and meetings. And if she did go out, it was for more meetings! A terrible thing, nobody should be cooped up inside all day with nothing for company but documents and dusty tomes.”

 

An idea formed, and it was one that Anna felt almost immediately guilty for considering. Gerda had been there for Elsa when her parents died. Anna knew, if she asked it of Gerda, the housekeeper would probably tell her everything that had occurred. But the thought of finding details about something so deeply personal, especially when it involved death and grief, and asking someone other than Elsa… Anna gently pushed the idea away. She would not think of it now. Elsa might yet open up about the loss, so Anna would be patient.

 

“You’re so very good for her,” Gerda said, drawing Anna back. “You’ve even gotten her to sleep more.”

 

That got Anna’s attention. It was confirmation that Elsa had not been taking care of herself. “Did she really work so much?” Anna prompted.

 

“Goodness, I don’t know what she got up to in the early hours, but it certainly wasn’t sleep! Sometimes the servants would catch her napping in the middle of the day at her desk, and they knew better than to disturb her.”

 

Anna sighed. Tired enough to sleep during the day? Little wonder that Elsa had been sleeping so much lately if a decent night’s rest was so elusive. It hurt even more to think how long this could have been going on.

 

“But that’s in the past now,” Gerda said firmly. She gave Anna a motherly pat on the cheek and stepped back. “You love each other and you’ll make each other so happy. My little girl’s bought all those fine horses that you love, even hired new cooks and fixed up the greenhouse with so many lovely flowers—”

 

“Wait, what?” Anna interrupted. “Did Elsa get more than the horses? She never mentioned hiring cooks or anything about the greenhouse.”

 

Gerda stared back, just as confused. “Yes, of course. She never said anything about them? They were to be wedding gifts, I believe.”

 

Anna shook her head. “No. I only know about my new wardrobe and the horses. Elsa hasn’t said anything else about other… renovations.”

 

“Oh, dear.” Gerda was stricken. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been the one to tell you. Perhaps she was waiting until later? There are all those other wedding gifts guests left that haven’t been opened.”

 

Anna reeled at the thought of more gifts from Elsa, the ones left by the other guests notwithstanding as she had completely forgotten about those and cared no more about them now than she had before. She couldn’t come up with a single reason why Elsa would have chosen to not inform her about those other than maybe Elsa really had chosen to wait before presenting them.

 

“Thank you for telling me, Gerda,” Anna said absentmindedly, still pondering Elsa’s behavior. “I won’t tell Elsa, I promise.”

 

Gerda was visibly relieved. “I hope I didn’t ruin a surprise, but we’ll keep it between ourselves if it was, won’t we?”

 

Anna laughed. “Yes, just like all those sweets you used to sneak me and Elsa.”

 

Gerda gazed at Anna for moment, smiling fondly until the housekeeper drew Anna into a warm hug. “I’m so happy for you two. I always knew that you’d be just lovely together. The old king did the best thing when he arranged your marriage. My little girl has always loved you, you know,” Gerda remarked as she pulled away.

 

“What? ‘Always?’” Anna echoed. Anna wanted to ask how long had Elsa felt this way, but Gerda simply patted her cheek in that indulgent, motherly way that meant nothing useful was going to be pried out no matter how persistently she tried.

 

“I know you’ll take care of her,” Gerda said. “You love her, too.”

 

Then Gerda took her leave to see to dinner preparations, abandoning Anna to stare blankly after her while feeling a bit cheated. People couldn’t just _do_ that, Anna thought dazedly. They couldn’t just drop revelations like that and expect to leave off before explaining anything. It just wasn’t fair.

 

But it did raise the question of why Elsa still hadn’t said anything about her feelings. What if Elsa was afraid of her response? Anna almost immediately rejected the notion, but the thought refused to be dismissed. If she were truly honest with herself, it wasn't just friendship she felt for Elsa, but she didn’t know what to call what she felt, either. Perhaps it was best that Elsa had said nothing yet—Anna would not lie, but she didn’t want to hurt or disappoint Elsa with some vague, nebulous answer, either.

 

Aware that she would accomplish nothing turning it over endlessly in her mind as Elsa was wont to do, Anna sat on a chair by her dresser to see to the package. The countess had certainly wasted no time delivering on her promise of more letters; even without a note, Anna was certain it was from Lady Charlotte.

 

She wondered if she ought to call a footman in case the thing contained a viper, but was instantly remorseful for entertaining the unworthy thought. By all accounts, Lady Charlotte had shown herself to be grossly inappropriate for polite company, but certainly not some evil witch—the mention of her slain husband softened Anna’s feelings toward the woman, regardless of whether that had been the other woman’s intention or not. Despite feeling kinder, Anna untied the twine with some trepidation and unwrapped the paper. She blinked in surprise.

 

It was a book. Leatherbound, well-worn, and French if the title was any indication: _Une Dame à Paris_ — _A Lady in Paris._ Anna pulled free a piece of paper that had been tucked behind the front cover with a thin sliver peeking out, and examined the bold handwriting.

 

_Do not wait for what will come—seize what you want with both hands. Inexperience is also fleeting, so read well, Princess. It need not be a solitary pursuit._

 

She wrinkled her brow at the unsigned note. The words made little sense to her, but it did confirm that it was from Lady Charlotte. Anna picked up the book, thumbing through the pages to the middle, and squinted at the words. She could read French a bit better than she could speak it, but she knew she would need either a dictionary or Elsa’s assistance to comprehend more than every other word. 

 

“Good god, did she send me a romance novel?” Anna wondered out loud with some bemusement. “Ah, what is this ... ‘ _son mari était dans la chambre à côté, pourtant elle continuait de me dévorer des yeux et elle souleva sa jupe. Je me suis agenouillée devant elle telle une pécheresse repentante, pour découvrir son intimité déjà humide.’”_

 

It took several seconds for her to decipher each word, string them together, and form the meaning. It took even longer for the meaning to take before her entire body went rigid with shock.

 

“Oh, my god,” Anna said, a little wild-eyed. “Oh, my _god_.”

 

If she was correct, then the passage she’d just read was: ‘ _...her husband was only a room away, but she still looked at me with hot, bright eyes and lifted her skirts. I kneeled before her like a penitent sinner, and found her bare and wet for me…’_

 

The book slid free of numb fingers, bounced off her lap and onto the floor. Anna’s face was hot as a kettle, her expression a mix of flustered mortification and unwilling interest. It was a novel, in a way. It was just the kind that no proper lady had any business reading. The kind that curious schoolgirls giggled over in private, stolen from somewhere or other, the kind that—

 

Anna snatched up the book again and found the author’s name. It was a woman’s name, thankfully _not_ containing any of the words: Charlotte, _comtesse_ , or _Artois_. She searched frantically through the passage she’d just read. Oh, god. The speaker was clearly also female. The countess had followed through on her promise to provide guidance. Everything that Anna had wondered about when she thought of sex and Elsa and how it was supposed to be done between two women, all her questions lay in a torridly erotic novel an infamous courtesan had gifted her with.

 

Anna didn’t know whether to cringe or immediately start reading again. If she started reading, she would need that dictionary because she’d spotted many, many unknown words that she was certain were not used in genteel circles and—her mind screeched to halt.

 

Elsa could read it.

 

A very loud ‘no’ resounded through her mind, followed by thoughts of Elsa’s reaction to being presented with an obscene book—Elsa might just look at her like _she_ was the one who needed a helpful boot off the North Mountain. Or worse, Elsa might just laugh and mock her endlessly. She would probably do it with that patently superior look down her nose and just wait for the avalanche of humiliation to crush Anna for her, too.

 

Anna was aware of the book still heavy in her hands and discovered that her palms were damp. Grimacing, Anna closed the book and gingerly set it back down. It looked so innocuous atop her dresser, and not at all like something that would send her soul straight to hell as some of the clergymen would have everyone believe. She could already feel heat creeping up her spine.

 

Anna swallowed, clutched the book back up—she certainly did not want a servant to come across it— and bolted for the library to find that French dictionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to somonastic and Rebecca Keys for their help beta-ing this chapter! Also, thanks to Chibikrys for her help with the French translation.


	19. Chapter 19

Elsa laid the draft back down on her desk. Seeing her father’s unfinished work had been more affecting than she had anticipated—there were pages of it, all littered with margin notes that she would need to pore over, but not tonight.

 

She was spent from dealing with the twin thorns of duke and countess, and was in no condition to work more. As irritating as the duke and countess were, their meddling was also constructive, in a way; they had cleared her eyes to the real enemy. Elsa knew who her opponent was now—it’d never been Anna. _This_ game she knew how to play. Her father had raised her for exactly this kind of game, and she needed to scramble her pieces into position quickly; she’d dawdled far too much the past few days. Even if she had not been able to read much of the draft before she had to stop again, she had seen enough to know what her next step should be. She would call upon each member of the Royal Council, and she already knew who she needed to see first.

 

After writing a note for Kai and calling a servant to deliver it, Elsa left the study for her room. Gerda met her along the way, offering such a warm smile that Elsa stopped short with a frown.

 

“Are you all right?” Elsa asked.

 

“Of course, dear,” Gerda replied, her face beatific as a saint’s. “Are you looking for the princess? She’s in your bedroom. I hope your living arrangements are permanent now. You seem to sleep in a different room every night.”

 

Suspicion prickled—her housekeeper looked entirely too pleased with herself, which was always a cause for concern. “I think I’ve settled down into one room, yes. You won’t have to worry about me wandering about in the middle of the night anymore.”

 

“You do have the princess to keep you warm at night,” Gerda replied with a wicked gleam in her eye.

 

Elsa affixed her best glower and refused to blush. “Gerda, I do not pay you wages to keep tabs on my sleeping habits.” She knew it wouldn’t cow her housekeeper, who seemed to forget their stations with alarming frequency, but Elsa still hoped for it like a fervent childhood wish. It would be just as likely as pigs soaring through the skies, or Anna would deciding horses were better attached to carriages and plows, but even queens had to indulge themselves with fantasy on occasion.

 

“Only sleeping, now? What does the princess think of this arrangement?”

 

Her glower narrowed into a glare. “Nor to speculate or comment on how my evenings are spent!”

 

“I’ll not keep you, then. I do have dinner preparations to see to. Your wife should be in your bedroom, if you’re looking for her,” Gerda said again, as though Elsa were a particularly slow child that required repeated direction. Elsa scowled as she marched away from her smug housekeeper.

 

Why, Elsa wondered as she threw open the door to the Queen’s chambers, was everybody so concerned about what she and Anna did? It was nobody’s business but their own. If she decided the entire kingdom should be privy to the goings-on of their bedroom—or lack of it—then she would commission a new standard for the flag tower to better broadcast their private business. Elsa nearly kicked the door shut in a fit of pique. She could already imagine the colors they’d choose: white for purity, red for sin, and then the townspeople could enjoy a good titter at their queen’s expense, just as Gerda undoubtedly had. She existed to serve, didn’t she? What was she if not a fount of entertainment?

 

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. If Anna could hear her thoughts…

 

“Anna?” Elsa called, sounding cross even to her own ears. If Anna was exploring the rest of the apartments, then Elsa would have no hope of seeing her before dinner. As Elsa strode in to search Anna’s wardrobe, she saw twine and wrapping paper left on a dresser. Anna had received a package of some kind.

 

A dire warning wafted up in the back of her mind, that had Elsa’s hackles rising—the countess had mentioned something about redirecting letters to Anna, but so soon? She had to stifle the immediate urge to go tearing through the castle for Anna, and breathed in and out instead. Whatever it was, it was probably harmless; if it wasn’t, then she would deal with it later. In an appropriate and moderate manner.

 

She might be high-strung, but she was self-aware enough to attempt to correct the behavior. Elsa took another deep, calming breath, then called a maid to draw a bath.

 

* * *

 

 

When Anna finally emerged from the library, her face scorched every variety of red, she knew it hadn’t been wise to try to read the book before dinner, especially since her parents would be in attendance. How on earth was she going to pay any attention to her family when she was busy pondering the logistics of sex against a _wall_? And that was only the least of her worries—she didn’t think her face would ever cool again. Fortune was on her side as she did not encounter anyone along the way back to her shared bedroom, and hoped a bath would bring her color down.

 

After ringing for a maid, Anna had begun to undo her plaits when she saw the forgotten wrapping paper left on the dresser. She grimaced and made a note to have the maid dispose of it. If Elsa found it, she hadn’t the faintest notion how she would explain it. She could just imagine how well that conversation would go, especially if Elsa knew who it was from—

 

“Anna?”

 

Her good luck had evidently run out. Anna could feel the blood drain out of her face, which had to be the most disconcerting feeling ever. Everything froze, including her brain; the only coherent thought that formed was, ludicrously, that her blushing problem was taken care of now.

 

“Anna, is that you?” Elsa called again, emerging from the closet in nothing but a silk white chemise that ended mid-thigh. “Where have you been? Gerda said you were here earlier.”

 

Anna, very carefully, did not look at her dresser. She gave Elsa a genial smile and attempted to school her features into innocent surprise. “Oh, I was in the—the library.” She had meant to sound nonchalant, but her voice had come out reed-thin and unconvincing. 

 

“The library?” Elsa looked amused. “You don’t even like the library. Dark and drafty, remember? What were you up to?”

 

Translating an erotic novel and regretting her indifference to French lessons. While she pondered an answer that would not sink her dignity, Anna gathered enough of her wits to notice just how revealing Elsa’s chemise was. Her legs were long and slender, feet sinking into the thick rug. Elsa’s bare shoulders and arms were a bit on the thinner side, but just as appealing as the rest of her. The chemise wasn’t very form-fitting, but Anna could make out the curve of Elsa’s hip tapering up into her waist through the sheer material. Further up, the silk clung to cleavage in a way that demanded visual appreciation; Anna obliged. 

 

“Well?” Elsa asked, oblivious to Anna’s scrutiny.

 

Well, I think you’re ridiculously pretty, was the first thing that came to mind. Elsa was all slim lines and grace, like a delicate filly; the fact that Elsa was so unaware of it only made Anna want to admire her form even more.

 

“Reading. You know, since it’s a library,” Anna hedged. Privately, she was very grateful for the foresight to hide the French book in the library. God only knew how she would explain its existence if she had it with her.

 

Elsa frowned, but she grinned after a moment. “Well, I hope you learned something, then. Since it is a library, a place of learning and deep thought. One knows how much a princess values learning and deep thought.”

 

Anna squirmed at the teasing poke, torn between creeping mortification and replying with something that would prompt more gentle mockery. “I like to read,” she said defensively.

 

Elsa laughed and motioned for Anna to follow. “I never meant to imply otherwise. You need to take a bath now if you don’t want to be late for dinner. I’ve already taken mine.”

 

“I had forgotten that there’s a bathroom in these apartments,” Elsa commented once hot water had been delivered. She gestured for Anna to turn and began to untie her dress stays. “The King’s chambers don’t. Well, I’m sure one of the rooms could be repurposed for that, but my parents didn’t use those rooms. My mother preferred these.”

 

“So that’s why your bedroom was so barren.” Anna should have felt a little more agitated than she was that Elsa was undressing her, but Elsa’s voice and manner was so calm, almost demure, that Anna found herself lulled into an equally placid state.

 

“Yes, it wasn’t in use for years before I moved. Most of the furnishings in the Queen’s chambers were my mother’s. If you want to redecorate, you’re free to.” The bodice loosened and fell, bunching around Anna’s waist. Anna stepped out of the dress with her petticoat and blouse still remaining.

 

Elsa brushed a lock of copper between her fingers when Anna faced her. “We have some time, but… do you want me to wash your hair?”

 

Anna’s eyes widened. Elsa looked hesitant and avoided Anna’s gaze, her own eyes aimed down at the soft curl looped about her fingers.

 

“I used to do that for you. You probably don’t remember, but when you were about four years old, you went through an episode where you had to be coaxed into taking baths—partly Kristoff’s doing, no doubt. Something about boys being allergic to baths and not needing them. I had to convince you to take one sometimes. You seemed to like it when I washed your hair, when you weren’t trying to splash water at me to freeze.”

 

“Did I really?”

 

“You doubt that you were a rambunctious and an occasionally difficult child?”

 

Anna laughed and conceded defeat. “All right, I believe you.” She started to unbutton her blouse while Elsa turned away to examine the jars of bath salts and soaps neatly lined on a side table.

 

“Have you been using these?” Elsa asked, picking one up to examine the contents. She kept her back to Anna, and tried not to swallow as she heard buttons being undone. The room was still warm and humid from her last bath, the candles casting the walls into a dusky light.

 

“No, not yet.” Anna hesitated on the last button, her eyes on Elsa’s back. Ignoring her jangling nerves, she pulled the button free.

 

“My mother used to like long baths,” Elsa said, acutely aware of even the briefest silence. “Gerda always kept all kinds of exotic soaps and bath oils stocked for her. Some of these look new, though. Perhaps we should try—that is, _you_ should try some of these,” Elsa babbled, heat scoring her skin at the rustle of discarded clothes behind her. Anna was naked, or very close to it, Elsa thought in a half-daze. She was going to see Anna naked, and wash her hair, and probably get struck by lightning for all the impure thoughts that were parading through her mind.

 

“Perhaps I should wait outside,” Elsa croaked, already lurching for the door. “Just tell me—” She caught a flash of Anna in nothing but an unbuttoned blouse bending over the tub to dip her hand into the water. Her legs were even more glorious out of riding breeches, and the blouse hem denied Elsa the opportunity to worship her wife’s form any further than the top of her thighs.

 

“Anna!” Elsa yelped, immediately whipping her eyes the opposite direction. Her face was utterly scalded, hands fisted at her sides. “You could have at least _waited_ for me to leave the room.”

 

“Prude,” Anna said, a laugh lurking behind the gentle insult. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a naked woman before.”

 

“I’ve never seen _anyone else_ naked before,” Elsa snapped. She attempted to chill her hands and press them to her burning cheeks, but she was too distracted to manage even that simple act,  her palms clammy and useless.

 

Anna glanced at Elsa and had to swallow another laugh. Elsa’s embarrassment was palpable and it helped to vanquish her own anxiety. Anna shucked the blouse, stepped into the tub, and, in a fit of mischief, balled it up in her fist. “Elsa, it’s safe now.”

 

The moment the queen turned, Anna pelted it at Elsa’s head. Her aim was true, as it always was. Elsa made an undignified noise as the shirt enveloped her face; she wheeled backward, her arms windmilling, while Anna’s laughter rang like a taunt.

 

“Anna!” Elsa growled, tearing the shirt off her face before she realized what sight would greet her. What she found was Anna safely submerged to her chin in the tub and still chortling gleefully.

 

“Are you _five?_ ” Elsa demanded, brandishing the shirt like a mauled boot to a puppy.

 

“You’re going to wash my hair like I am. I thought I should get into character.” She squealed and huddled in the far corner of the tub when Elsa rounded on her. “Elsa, you wouldn’t dare!” Anna yelped, correctly reading the intent written on the queen’s face.

 

“I wouldn’t?” Elsa’s voice was incredulous. “Why would that be? I am the queen. I’m well within my rights to exact punishment for your assault on me. _Again_.”

 

Anna was torn between more laughter and morbid curiosity. “Because you’re obviously the only mature one between the two of us?” Anna tried. “And—and you’re above petty retaliation!” Anna threw in, inspired.

 

“Appealing to my higher nature?” Tossing the shirt on the table, Elsa pulled up a stool to the tub and sat. Anna watched her warily. “Come now,” Elsa said mildly, eyebrows lifted. “You just said I wouldn’t dare.”

 

“I don’t trust you.”

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Elsa commented, looking far too forgiving for someone who’d just gotten pelted in the face, and beckoned. “We do have dinner to attend. Let’s not dwaddle because you doubt my mercy.”

 

Cautiously, Anna slid to end of the tub closest to Elsa. Elsa’s face was still blandly innocent, though her mouth did twitch at Anna’s reluctance.

 

“You’re not going to make a snowball and smash it into my hair or the back of my neck, are you?” Anna asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

“I’m above petty retaliation,” Elsa repeated. While Elsa examined a jar of some concoction, Anna decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

 

“You don’t need to wash very thoroughly,” Anna said. “My hair isn’t as thick as yours, but—” A hand pressed down on the crown of her head and gave a mighty shove. Anna gave an squawk of betrayal, but only a gurgle emerged as her mouth filled with water. Elsa held her under for no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to make Anna thrash out of pure indignation. 

 

“Elsa!” Anna shrieked the instant her head cleared. She sputtered and squinted burning eyes; her ears were clogged, but Elsa’s laugh was unmistakable. Anna smacked her hand into water to splash the queen, who neatly dodged it. “You said you were above that and I _believed_ you!”

 

“What did you expect, Anna? For me to roll belly up if you asked nicely enough?” Elsa snorted. “I may go along with most of your ideas, but certainly not _all_ of them.”

 

Anna flicked water at her, which only made Elsa laugh again. “Gloating isn’t nice, deserved or not,” Anna muttered, swiping wet hair back.

 

The scales righted now, Elsa poured soap onto her hands and motioned for Anna to turn, rolling her eyes when Anna glared. “Don’t worry, my appetite for vengeance has been sated.”

 

“Thank you,” Elsa said, much more softly, her hands lathering the soap into Anna’s hair.

 

Anna gave a wordless nod—the playfulness had broken the tension, just as Anna had hoped it would. A comfortable silence settled between them, interrupted by only the soft sound of hair being scrubbed.

 

“Anna, did the countess send you something?”

 

Anna couldn’t help it—she stiffened enough that Elsa stopped. “Anna? What’s wrong?”

 

“She did,” Anna admitted while her thoughts raced. “How did you know?”

 

“I saw wrapping paper on your dresser. What was it?”

 

“Um. She sent a book.” Anna fidgeted. “It was a French book.”

 

“What kind of book?” Elsa asked, wondering at Anna’s reluctance.

 

“It’s a—I think it’s a romance novel.” Anna’s voice sounded strangled even to herself. She could feel Elsa wanting to ask more questions, and quickly added, “That’s why I was in the library. It’s in French and you know I’m not fluent in it like you are, so I was trying to read it.” She had certainly read enough to know ‘romance novel’ was putting it _very_ loosely.

 

“I see,” Elsa said, sounding doubtful. A romance novel? Her nose wrinkled; she wanted to ask more about it, but if Anna was embarrassed, she wouldn’t press. “If you’d like assistance reading it, you can always ask, you know. I’d be more than happy to help.”

 

Anna blushed to her roots—’help’ was taking on all kinds of meanings in her mind, none appropriate—and was glad that Elsa couldn’t see it.

 

“M-maybe,” she managed, wanting to sink through the tub and into the floor. She knew she would have to tell Elsa at some point, but she only had to imagine the embarrassment that event would elicit to make her push it to another day. She reminded herself that now was hardly a good time either—Elsa might just dunk her head again on principle if she knew what was really in that book.

 

“Will you really be all right with your parents leaving?” Elsa suddenly asked.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

She felt Elsa’s brief shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just—you may not be able to visit them as often as you’d like. You’ve always been close to your family and I don’t think you’ve ever been apart from them for very long. I thought… perhaps their impending departure might be more affecting than you were letting on.”

 

Anna gave a small shake of her head and smiled, even though Elsa couldn’t see it. “I’ll be fine, Elsa. I’ve always known I’d have to leave Corona one day. I’ll see them again soon. Well, I’ll see my parents soon. Kristoff—” She immediately shut her mouth while another silence, more tense, stretched. 

 

“I miss him, too,” Elsa said, her voice as gentle as her hands.

 

Unexpected tears prickled at the back of her eyes, to Anna’s embarrassment. How strange, she thought in disbelief. She had not cried in years and it’d only taken an oblique slip of her brother’s name to send her back.

 

She pressed fingertips into her eyes, her breath shuddering out. The words clustered at the back of her throat, wanting to be heard. Her parents never wanted to talk about Kristoff, and she’d never felt close enough to any ladies in Corona to speak of private family matters. “Elsa, he’s been gone for nearly three years. I’m afraid—I’m afraid he won’t ever come home,” Anna whispered.

 

“He will,” Elsa said firmly. “Kristoff knows that Corona is his duty. Nothing means more to him than family.”

 

“He was only supposed to be gone for a year, maybe a year and half. That was all Papa would allow him. He sends letters, he makes promises, but he—” Anna’s breath hitched. “He said he’d be here for the wedding. He promised months ago, but he didn’t come.”

 

Elsa squeezed Anna’s shoulder gently instead, her voice quiet. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to speak of it if you don’t want to. I hadn’t meant to bring him up.”

 

Anna shook her head. “No, I think maybe I should. Talk about him, I mean. Nobody does, not even my parents. And if he does get brought up, everybody says it’s _when_ he comes home, but how can anyone know for sure? How long does it need to be before that ‘ _when’_ turns into an ‘ _if_?’ All we really know is what he writes in his letters, we don’t know what he’s actually thinking, what he feels—”

 

“Anna,” Elsa interrupted. Anna covered her mouth, trying to breathe in deeply to quell the rising panic.

 

Elsa moved the stool alongside the tub to face Anna. She could see the helplessness and pain on Anna’s face, and suffered her own helplessness for not knowing the right things to say when Anna needed her.

 

“I’m sure Kristoff has his reasons for staying away,” Elsa said, though she did wonder what they were if promises were being broken. She hadn’t been nearly as close to Kristoff as she had been with his sister, but she remembered the shared camaraderie between the two heir apparents; they’d both known what was waiting for them when the time came. For them, promises were not idly given.

 

“I wish I could go find him,” Anna whispered. “I wish Papa would let me go find him and bring him home.”

 

“That’s more like you, to go after the things you want. Not surprising that your father wouldn’t have let you, though. The places Kristoff have gone to don’t make it easy to track down someone who doesn’t want to be found, does it? I recall rumors that he’d gone off to Africa, of all places. You’d stand out like a thoroughbred in a string of nags there, if Kristoff doesn’t already.”

 

Anna couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. “You made a horse joke.”

 

“I learned from the best.” Elsa’s brow furrowed as she considered options. “Anna, if you wanted, I could have Calhoun try to find Kristoff.”

 

Anna looked up, hope lodging in her throat. “Would Calhoun be able to do it? What if I could go with him? Kristoff might show himself if he heard that I was looking for him.”

 

Elsa was already shaking her head. “Anna, no. You know you can’t. If Kristoff does not want to be found, he might be avoiding towns and cities where his presence would be noted. He might not even be in Africa anymore. Didn’t he also want to visit places like India and the Far East? A trip like that, it would take years—” Elsa nearly cursed herself when Anna looked away.

 

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to sound discouraging,” Elsa sighed. “I meant to say that it would be dangerous for you to go.” Though Elsa had a suspicion that someone might already know where Kristoff was.

 

As understanding and gregarious as Frederick was, he was a king with a kingdom to look after; she doubted he’d allow his only heir to wander the world without knowing exactly where he was. The only thing she could not understand was why Anna was left in the dark about Kristoff’s whereabouts if Frederick did know. 

 

“I know it’s a stupid idea, Elsa. I just can’t stand doing nothing about it. If I could do something, anything to get him to come home—” Anna cut herself off. “I’m sorry. I just want to help and he’s my brother. I’m supposed to be there for him and I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to why he left.” Anna’s voice dropped off in a way that conveyed exactly where she thought the blame might be.

 

“I hope you’re not implying that you think it’s your fault,” Elsa said, her voice sharper than she’d intended. “Kristoff’s decisions are his own. You are not accountable for what he does.”

 

Anna flinched. Elsa wanted to curse herself again and scrubbed her face with her hands. There was no end to how she was botching things again. 

 

“Forgive me,” she started. “I’m apparently poor at reassurances. I meant that no matter why he’s been gone, it’s not your fault. Nobody knows his reasons except himself—perhaps now is a good time to tell you about my parents. We’ve delayed again, so if you’ll finish your bath, I’ll tell you.”

 

Elsa turned away and rested her back against the tub to give Anna some privacy, the porcelain cold across her shoulder blades. “You remember what I told you earlier today? About my parents’ reason for marriage?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Have you ever wondered why they never had more children after me?”

 

There was a brief silence as Anna thought on it. “I did,” she admitted. “But just in passing. I always thought you had to be lonely by yourself. Servants and parents aren’t the same, not like me and Kristoff.”

 

“No, you’re right, it’s not quite the same. Alice said it was because my mother couldn’t have more children. When my parents married, the first pregnancy was a miscarriage.”

 

There was a small splash that sounded like the washcloth had been dropped into water. Anna’s voice was small and edged in shock when she spoke. “A miscarriage? I thought—the pregnancy was...”

 

“Was me?” Elsa examined the hem of her chemise that lay over her crossed legs, her fingers plucking at the lace. “I thought so, too, until I remembered the year they wed and when I was born. Alice said my mother and father tried several times, but it never… took. Until me. The doctors told my mother to not try anymore; another might kill her, miscarriage or not. My mother gave my father leave to take a royal mistress, for a male heir. Like the English do.”

 

“A mistress?” Anna gasped. “Your mother, Aunt Marina, she would never—”

 

“My father refused,” Elsa interjected with a smile. “And he decided I would be his heir. Do you see, Anna? For a very long time, I thought I was the reason they didn’t have more children. I thought they didn’t want to risk having another child inheriting ice magic, but that’s not the case at all. I never had the courage to ask, though I’m sure they’d have told me if I had. When they died, I’d have never known if it hadn’t been for your mother.”

 

Anna was silent as she digested the rest of the tale.

 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from my family, Anna, it’s to not think you know the reasons why. Don’t take silence and uncertainty as proof. Kristoff wouldn’t have left because of you; you know that’s preposterous as well as I do. You’re his sister and he loves you.”

 

“But if not me, then Corona could have,” Anna said softly. “And he can’t leave Corona behind forever. Kristoff isn’t like you, Elsa. He was never comfortable with power or responsibility, not the kind that comes with ruling a kingdom. He always felt too much.” Anna realized her slip and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” She certainly had not meant to imply that Elsa felt too little; Anna knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.

 

Elsa shook her head. “I know what you meant. There’s a distance that rulers must place between themselves and those they lead and, well, we both know how good I am at that. He’s not like me, but he doesn’t need to be. I think Kristoff is capable.”

 

Anna relaxed visibly. There was no one who knew better than Elsa, and she took comfort in that. “Do you really believe that?”

 

“Have you ever known me to give idle compliments?” Elsa asked with a faint curve of her lips. “I’m more apt to say nothing at all if I come across an incompetent.”

 

“Or fill my ear with words like ‘idiot,’ or ‘ass’ privately—”

 

“Enough,” Elsa shushed, laughing in spite of herself. “Some people look in the mirror and expect to find someone with a brain gazing back. Who am I to relieve them of this blissful state?”

 

Anna snorted. “Yes, it’s a kindness that you dispense out like candy.”

 

“But short of having Kristoff dragged home, you’d at least want to know he’s safe, is that right?”

 

“Nobody can really make him come home other than Papa, but I do want to know that he’s safe.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Elsa promised. “And who knows, perhaps Calhoun will enjoy the idea of wrangling a royal prince and bringing him here.”

 

Anna grinned at the image. “I wouldn’t object if he did. I’d like to give Kristoff a piece of my mind after all this time.”

 

“I’ll offer a nice bonus to him for you, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was confirmed to be a grand one; its opulence bordered that of the wedding party. Elsa suspected Gerda had browbeaten and baited the cooks into producing their very best, and maybe most questionable, fares. Dishes were laid out on the long table like a smattering of trophies, all vying for attention. Even the footmen were dressed in their very finest, which had to have taken some doing as they wore the exact same thing every evening. But they still managed to look… shinier than usual.

 

Elsa squinted. Yes, that was it—buttons had been polished, uniforms starched, pristine white gloves standing out starkly as a flock of doves, and boots gleamed like newly minted coins.

 

“Gerda, I’d no idea we were hosting every head of state on the continent tonight,” Elsa remarked as she studied the glittering room. Even the candles looked brighter than usual. “I hope you’ve no plans to seat my mother and father-in-law at the other end, I have no yearning to shout conversation down the table like a street vendor at a horse fair.”

 

Anna couldn’t quite stifle her snicker. Gerda looked as though she’d like to send Elsa to her room without supper, which did nothing but make Elsa raise her brows in challenge.

 

“I certainly would not dictate where to seat the king and queen of Corona,” Gerda replied. Even the housekeeper was attired in her best dress, the very image of a stately lady quietly plotting revenge behind a prim mask. Elsa bit back a laugh and nodded to the table.

 

“You’ve outdone yourself. I’m sure Frederick and Alice will love this,” she said earnestly—a peace offering for the gibe.

 

Gerda beamed back. With Elsa apparently pardoned, the housekeeper turned and swept away to order more servants about like a power-mad martinet.

 

“She’s still going to make you pay for that,” Anna remarked as they seated themselves.

 

“Probably,” Elsa agreed, unperturbed. “It’s a game we play. You can probably imagine who wins most of the time, though I’ve long since lost track of the score.”

 

“She loves you,” Anna said, remembering her conversation with Gerda earlier that evening. “She calls you her little girl.”

 

“No matter if I’ve a crown on my head, an army at my back, or you by my side, I’ll likely always be that little girl to her,” Elsa said with a half-smile. “I can’t say I really mind it. I’m very lucky to have her.”

 

Dinner began once Frederick and Alice arrived. Conversation was animated between Anna and her parents, and largely kept to the day’s events, though Anna was careful to leave out details of the trip to Weselton, and avoided Lady Charlotte entirely.

 

“The servants were going on and on about your walk today in the city,” Alice commented. “Goodness, one would think a stroll is tantamount to stripping down to undergarments in the middle of Ardvik Square and dancing about that statue of some ancestor of yours, dear. The way the maids talked! I really must question your staff’s standards for _real_ titillating gossip, Elsa.”

 

Elsa closed her eyes while Anna burst out laughing next to her. Her mother-in-law, she decided silently, would never, ever be proper. Privately, Elsa couldn’t say that she didn’t enjoy it—conversations with Alice were never boring.

 

“I will pass along your comments,” Elsa said, completely straight-faced. “I will suggest for them to speak to the stable hands. According to Anna, all sorts of gossip and tales fill the stalls that are not fit for polite company.”

 

“The best kind!” Alice beamed.

 

And so that ridiculous line of dialogue went for most of the night with Elsa following along with good humor—dinner with her own parents had never proceeded in such an absurd fashion. While Frederick and Anna dove into discussion about horses again, Elsa turned to find Alice studying her. For once, Elsa did not feel pinned by her mother-in-law’s gaze; she was remarkably at ease and gave her a questioning look.

 

“You look considerably happier than before,” Alice said by way of explanation. “Both you and Anna, in fact.”

 

“We did enjoy our city stroll that has the entire castle buzzing,” Elsa said drily. “It also served the purpose of averting rumors that I am a vampire that only rises in the dead of moonless night.”

 

“Ah, some domestic diplomacy! How thoughtful of you to both banish old rumors and provide fodder for new ones. Though your complexion _does_ indicate that you favor nighttime activities. You will assure me that it was my daughter’s idea, is that right?” Alice replied, just as ironic.

 

“Actually, it was mine.” Elsa had not missed the innuendo and reconsidered the flag idea; there was some merit to it if it would stop all the personal questions. “We cleared up some more things about our future.”

 

“Setting up ground rules?”

 

“More like making clear what our mutual intentions are,” Elsa said, smiling. “How was your ride today? I hope Anna directed you to one of the milder trails.”

 

“She did at least do that much before she abandoned us for your esteemed company. My last day and she still deserts her mother,” Alice sighed, but continued in a more serious tone, “You know, dear, I’ve no great fondness for those hooved things despite what the rest of my family thinks. The irony that I am queen to the country famous for the beasts is not lost on me.”

 

Elsa chuckled. “That I’m married to the princess of the same country is not lost on me either. I suspect Anna will try to sway my opinion on horses more actively than Frederick tried with you.”

 

“My daughter does seem to think love for the overgrown things can be cajoled out of anyone, yes. I’ve no words of advice other than good luck to you and your saddle sores, dear. I do not envy you.”

 

Elsa smiled again and gave a small shrug. “Well, she just might convince me. She’s requested daily morning rides.”

 

“Daily! Your seat will never be the same.” Alice affected mock horror. “Not to veer very far away from topic, but I do trust you to take care of Anna. It’s why Frederick and I agreed to allow the marriage. I can’t imagine Anna being very happy with anyone else.”

 

Elsa couldn’t help herself. “Not even Prince Hans?”

 

Alice rolled her eyes, her expression remarkably similar to that of Frederick’s when the Southern Isles prince had last come up. “Oh, that boy. He’d have bored Anna to tears inside of six months, I’d wager every one of my heirlooms on that. I’ve never known anyone so utterly lacking in personality; almost every opinion he had was from someone else. Not passionate about a single thing, if you could believe it. At least you can enjoy a good joke, dear. Half the time, the poor boy didn’t know whether to nod like a farm chicken or scold me. His face would turn into a blank slate, like a mirror waiting for a subject to come by.”

 

Alice shook her head and continued, “You’d think one of those dozen brothers would have pounded something into that empty head of his.”

 

Elsa blinked, shocked at the narrative. _This_ was the man Anna had wanted to marry, if only for companionship and respectability? By Anna’s own admission, she had not known Prince Hans for very long; if he was as chameleon-like as Alice had implied, then perhaps he’d only shown what Anna had thought she wanted in a husband. Perhaps it’d be worthwhile to consider what exactly Anna had thought she wanted and how Elsa compared to it, but she pushed the thought away for the time being.

 

Surprising or not, Alice’s commentary did thoroughly vanquished any lingering feelings of jealousy.

 

“You’re a much better match for Anna,” Alice added unnecessarily. Her eyes softened as she watched Elsa. “I think Marina and Alexander would have been very happy if they could see you like this.”

 

Elsa waited, letting the familiar heartache and grief pass over her, though it wasn’t nearly so intense as it’d once been. At its worst years ago, it would have choked her and left her mired in pain, barely able to eat or sleep, much less function in any kind of useful capacity. This time, the dark misery receded as quickly as it’d come, instead of haunting her like a spectre for days, or weeks.

 

A buoyant lightness slowly filled her as Elsa found that she believed Alice’s words; if her mother and father were here to see her, she imagined they would have been happy. She wasn’t the grief-stricken, orphaned daughter, or the withdrawn, reluctant queen, nor the woman bracing herself for heartbreak, anymore.

 

She’d changed, and become something that felt whole again. She only wished they were alive to thank them for steering her down the right path, and leading Anna to her to help her back up when she stumbled.

 

“I think they would have been happy as well, Aunt Alice,” Elsa answered softly. “I truly do.”

 

* * *

 

 

As dinner’s end drew close, Kai discreetly delivered a message that Elsa had been expecting, though not quite so soon. Before she could ponder her next step, Frederick and Alice rose to their feet. Anna followed suit with a comment that she wanted to join her mother for a little longer before they retired. Frederick ruffled his daughter’s hair fondly as she passed him by; Elsa sprung on the opportunity.

 

“Uncle Frederick, do you have a moment?”

 

Frederick stopped mid-step as Alice and Anna left, head turning to face his daughter-in-law. “I’ve no other plans for the evening,” he replied, his tone as neutral as her own.

 

Elsa grimaced inwardly—relations were still a bit strained without company to buffer the tension. Frederick looked wary, as if she might start demanding marriage contract amendments again. “I’ll try to keep this brief, but if you’d be seated?”

 

Frederick obeyed and aimed a questioning look when Elsa dismissed the footmen. The doors closed after behind the last man.

 

“I doubt you’d want this conversation to be part of castle gossip,” Elsa said. She sat and pushed her plate aside.

 

“First, I do want to apologize about the way I handled certain aspects of my marriage,” Elsa began. “Especially in regards to the marriage clause and… our previous meeting. I regret my words and I did not mean to offend you. I consider you my uncle, as I always have, and a second father,” she added honestly.

 

Frederick puffed out a breath, then released a short bark of laughter. “Your father taught you to wear remorse well.”

 

Elsa sighed softly in relief at that; the air eased and she relaxed against the back of her chair. “I’ve had a lot of practice recently. Anna humbles me. A great deal.”

 

“I cannot say that you don’t look improved recently. Very well, I accept your apology and you have mine as well. What did you wish to speak of?”

 

She hoped what she was about to say wouldn’t damage their relationship so soon after forgiveness had been exchanged. “Anna has recently expressed her concern about…” Elsa gave it up. There was no point in trying to dance around the issue, especially not with Frederick; he appreciated the straightforward approach as much as she did.

 

“Anna misses her brother,” Elsa said bluntly.

 

The mix of surprise and pain that passed over Frederick’s face had a second apology hovering on the tip of her tongue as she braced herself for refusal.

 

“She wouldn’t be alone in that,” Frederick answered, before she could say anything else. “We all miss him.”

 

Relieved that her father-in-law had not thrown her out of the room, Elsa nodded and continued, “While I have faith that Kristoff will return home soon, Anna is worried for him. I’ve promised Anna I would try to find him and at least confirm his well-being. The reason I bring this up to you is because I think you may know where Kristoff is. That you may have been keeping track of his movements since the day he left.”

 

Frederick’s face went blank. It was several moments before he could answer. “You’re very much your father’s daughter,” he said, his voice oddly tight. “Alexander could do that as well—discern a man’s thoughts with nothing more than what he could see.”

 

“I may be like my father, but I’ve known you for almost my entire life, Uncle. I knew you’d have never let Kristoff put himself in danger, not if you could help it.”

 

The king closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face before he answered. “You’re right. He is my son, and I protect my own. I did have him followed.”

 

“Did?” Elsa prompted.

 

Frederick looked immeasurably tired. “Did. My men lost track of him eight months ago in Egypt. He got caught up in some Bedouin tribal dispute in the desert and disappeared. I don’t know where he is anymore.”

 

She breathed in sharply as Frederick’s words sank in. Kristoff was _missing_? “You haven’t had any word of him for eight months? No letters from him or anyone else? What about his promise to attend the wedding?”

 

“His last letter did promise he’d come to the wedding, but that was almost ten months ago. This is not the first time Kristoff has disappeared. He’s lost my men before for a few weeks, sometimes months. All I have now are sporadic sightings, none of which can be confirmed were him.” He sighed. “The distance does not help. Even if someone were to find him, it’d be weeks before I’d catch wind of it.”

 

“Why haven’t you told Anna any of this?”

 

He looked away. “How do you expect me to tell my daughter that I’ve lost her brother in the godforsaken desert? She’d have no choice but to believe he was dead, and you know that would have hurt her deeply. If he were in a safe place, he’d have sent word of some kind. I don’t know what to believe, but the only thing that can be done now is that I find my son, so that conversation with Anna will never have to take place.”

 

“Do you think he might have been kidnapped for ransom, then?”

 

“No. If he had, I’d have received a demand for his life by now.”

 

“Where was he last seen, then? What city?”

 

“South of Cairo. What do you plan to do?” Frederick asked when Elsa stood.

 

“I told Anna I would try to find him. Even if you haven’t had any success, I’d at least like to try. My attorney, Calhoun, will likely have some kind of contact in Egypt or elsewhere. Give me the name of whoever is coordinating your search and perhaps we’ll be able to find more.”

 

Frederick relayed names and locations. “I know it’s unnecessary to repeat this, but this must be kept quiet. As far as everybody else knows, my son is only traveling. Not a word about him being missing.” Or dead, which truly did not need to be said at all.

 

“I know.” Elsa filed away the names and made a note to contact Holsen at the soonest opportunity. She stopped at the door and looked back at the king with a trace of regret. “I can’t promise the same for Anna, though. She should know. I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

 

Frederick looked resigned, but unsurprised. “I would not ask you to. I know she will be angry with me.”

 

Elsa hesitated. “If you want, I can tell her after you leave.”

 

But Frederick was already shaking his head. “No, you know that’s the coward’s way out, Elsa. I will not do that, not to my daughter.”

 

Elsa nodded once and left her father-in-law to contemplate a glass of wine.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna later found Elsa in her study after she left her mother. 

 

“You spend far too much time in here,” Anna informed the queen. Instead of pulling up a chair, she simply tossed her legs over Elsa’s lap and settled in like an affectionate cat.

 

“Comfortable?” Elsa inquired with quirked brow, her hands aloft and still full of parchment that she needed to read. “Does your highness require a pillow as well?”

 

Anna gave Elsa a patronizing little pat and looped an arm behind Elsa’s shoulders, her fingers tangling in blonde hair. “No, thank you, I find your lap most accommodating. Mother wanted to give me some of her things before she and Papa leave tomorrow. What are you reading? Your father’s old draft?”

 

“No, just some legislation about livestock. Shall I read it to you? It’d make for an excellent bedtime story. There’s even sheep involved.”

 

Anna laughed. “That _would_ send me straight off into dreams, but maybe later. I’m still quite awake.”

 

Elsa set the papers back down on her desk and wrapped one arm about Anna’s waist and the other hand on her bent knee. “I was waiting for you, actually. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

 

“Are you referring to my demanding social schedule? All those visits that I, Princess Consort of Arendelle, must bestow upon the eager populace like the rare favors they are?” Anna said in her best imitation of Elsa’s imperiousness.

 

Once Elsa had finished snorting at that, Anna grinned and answered, “Aside from the morning ride that you won’t be wriggling out of, and seeing my parents off, no. Why?”

 

“Do you remember how I said that I would need to speak to the Royal Council about that inheritance law?”

 

“Of course, what about it?”

 

“Well, quite a few of them are in the city currently. It’s rather fortuitous timing since most did attend our wedding. I sent a letter to one who I know will be itching to leave the city as soon as it’s acceptably polite to, which is Baron Enberg. You don’t know him—we weren’t very social during the party, and he wasn’t formally introduced to you.”

 

“You’ll be meeting him, then?”

 

“Yes, I received a response right after dinner. He’s available tomorrow.”

 

“Do you want me to come with you? If it might convince him to help you?”

 

Elsa paused to think about that. “I’m not sure. I’m afraid I don’t know the baron very well. He’s one of the more influential councilmembers. I know he dislikes city life; he much prefers his countryside estate that’s rather far-removed to the east. His lands are rich in timber that’s sold to shipyards, and he makes some profit selling furs, too. Quite different from how the rest of Arendelle’s trade is done,” she remarked. “My forefathers were not called the accountant kings for nothing.”

 

“Because of all the loans and investing?”

 

“Yes. Arendelle doesn’t make much of anything. We simply… have wealth by virtue of our gold mines, and the way we conduct business. It breeds some resentment, undeserved or not.” Elsa idly traced a pattern on Anna’s knee with a finger, feeling very content at the moment.

 

“I think I would like it if you came with me to meet Baron Enberg. You’d likely meet him at some point anyway. Perhaps you’ll do most of the work and charm him for me. He likes horses, too, from what I understand of him,” Elsa said with exaggerated patience, as though the preference was a character flaw that had to be endured.

 

Anna smiled against Elsa’s hair; she was tempted to indulge Elsa and take the bait, but she was also feeling remarkably content and allowed it to pass. “I think I do have some experience with charming lords. I’ll come with you to meet your baron, then.”

 

Elsa was quiet for a moment, her heart heavy with what she needed to do, and said, “Anna, I spoke to your father about Kristoff.”

 

Anna sat up straight to examine Elsa. “You did? What did he say? I mean, Papa never talks about Kristoff, and anytime I try to bring him up, he always changes the subject. It’s like pulling teeth.”

 

Elsa repeated what Frederick had told her, taking care to leave nothing out.

 

“He’s _what_?” Anna snapped, her voice nearly cracking. “He didn’t say anything when Kristoff got kidnapped by Arabs?!”

 

“I don’t know if Kristoff was actually kidnapped. Your father said he’d gotten caught up in something and that he has been trying to find Kristoff since. He said didn’t want to worry you.” But even that excuse felt weak in the face of Anna’s outrage.

 

“My brother might be dead or dying and my father didn’t want to _worry_ me?” Anna launched herself from Elsa’s lap violently enough to have the queen rub at her abused legs with a wince. “Is there something wrong with me? Why does everybody want to _keep_ things from me?” Anna demanded.

 

Elsa just managed to control her flinch. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Anna. It’s not to keep the truth from you, it’s just—” She struggled to find the right words, the right tone, but she’d been guilty of doing the very same thing and it felt patently false to defend it.

 

“Papa knew, he _knew_ the entire time, and he didn’t tell me. Oh, my god, I knew there was a reason why there hasn’t been a letter for months. Because Kristoff might not ever—because he could be—” Anna’s voice went thick and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

 

Elsa went to Anna at once, reaching a hand out to touch her, but Anna jerked away.

 

“I don’t want to be coddled. I didn’t ask for it. Do people think that I can’t bear to hear the truth? Or that I’m a child and not a grown woman?”

 

“You’re not a child,” Elsa said softly. “But you are upset and I’m sorry for it. You have every right to feel the way that you do.”

 

Anna’s hard stare was aimed somewhere over Elsa’s shoulder. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven. “You did it, too,” she muttered, but Elsa could hear the accusing tone. She inclined her head in acknowledgment of that fact, well-deserved as it was.

 

“I did. I know I was wrong to have assumed I knew what was best. Before the wedding, the last time I had seen you was when you were but a girl, and perhaps that was what stayed in my mind—that I had to act in your best interest because I thought you didn’t know what you wanted. It wasn’t my place to make those decisions for you, I know that.”

 

Anna’s hands clenched before she forced them to relax. “I know it’s not your fault. Kristoff and Papa not saying anything isn’t your fault.” Anna swallowed and pressed fingers to her eyes before her breath heaved out in a sigh. “It’s not your fault. But my own father lied to me, Elsa. For months, he didn’t say anything.”

 

She drew Anna into her arms, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry, Anna. I truly am. Do you want to speak to your father?”

 

Anna shook her head silently.

 

“All right, then. I know you’re upset, but do you think that Kristoff could be dead?”

 

Anna hesitated, then shook her head again. “No, I don’t. Not really. Kristoff is capable, like you said. Not in the way that he can be a king—I mean that he knows how to survive. He always liked being outside, and he had friends in the army who taught him how to fight. He knows what to do if he’s stranded somewhere, how to forage, find water and shelter. We used to go camping.”

 

“Yes, I remember you suggesting that particular past time,” Elsa said, making a face to lighten the mood. “And did your father ever say anything about following Kristoff?”

 

Anna sighed and looked away. “To be honest, I thought he might have been doing that. It’s like him to, even though Papa wouldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t let Kristoff go alone at first. He had some people go with Kristoff, but Kristoff stranded them at the first port their ship docked in, and he’s only gotten better at losing them since. But I _trusted_ Papa to tell me if something like this happened, Elsa.”

 

“I won’t dispute that he should have told you. I’d want to know if I were in your place. But remember that he was thinking of you when he did it. It doesn’t make what he did justifiable, but he _is_ your father. Family is...” Elsa smiled and brushed Anna’s fringe out of her eyes. “Well, you know. Complicated. Look at my own family.”

 

Anna’s expression remained troubled. “Keeping secrets—”

 

“I know. I can’t tell you how you should feel, but your parents are leaving tomorrow and it might be some time before you can see them again. I just don’t want you to regret anything when you look back at this.”

 

“You’re saying I should forgive Papa for this?”

 

“Not necessarily. Do you think you’d regret exchanging potentially angry words with him, and then having to wait several months or more before you get the chance to speak again?” Elsa waited a beat, then added, “Perhaps I’m biased, but I’ve always valued my relationship with my father. I don’t want you and your father to become estranged. Both of you are very close.”

 

Anna struggled with herself before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Since when did you become the voice of reason?”

 

“I must hoard those rare moments for when you need them,” Elsa said lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure my nerves will be as delicate and as sensitive as ever, and require your attention to soothe.”

 

Anna smiled at that, quick and small. “I should talk to Papa, but I don’t think right now. I think if I talked to him now I probably will regret what I say.”

 

“A good night’s sleep might be best. If it eases your mind, your father did give me the names of the people who are looking for Kristoff now. I’ll pass them on to Calhoun and see if we can broaden the search.”

 

Anna gripped Elsa’s hands and smiled up at her again. “It does. Thank you.”

 

Because the moment seemed to call for it, because Anna still looked wounded and worried, a sight which Elsa could not stand and would do anything to prevent, she cupped Anna’s face and kissed her.

 

Anna started at first, but she returned the kiss and the solace it offered, pressing herself against Elsa. Lips teased and lingered, their owners reluctant to part even for air. Noses and foreheads touched and bumped together while their breaths mingled, warm and soft.

 

“Anna,” Elsa murmured, just to say her name. Her entire life, she had associated happiness with that name—whenever a letter arrived bearing a royal seal and a distinctive scrawl, whenever she saw a knight chess piece, whenever she stood beneath the sun in summer, waiting for the Coronan flag to appear over the water on the horizon— _Anna_. There were no other words she needed. She would gladly give up every word she knew, lock them all away, if she could have only that one.

 

“Anna,” Elsa said, her eyes opening to look at Anna’s face. It felt like her heart was going to burst with how much she felt, as though there wasn’t enough space to hold in the emotion. Elsa framed Anna’s beautiful face, thumbs brushing the freckles that she’d yet to count. She took in lush eyelashes, blue eyes, pert nose, even the faint white scar near the bottom of her chin from a riding accident. All of it perfect and real and _hers_.

 

How, Elsa wondered in amazement, had she remained silent for so long? How could she have never even tried to express what had been lurking inside her for so long, like a hibernating animal stirring for spring, because it suddenly felt so wrong that she had never said—

 

“Anna, I love you.”

 

And nothing had ever felt more right and true than those words. Elsa couldn’t stop the smile that unfurled anymore than she could command the planets to align. Anna’s eyes went wide, her lips parting in surprise, while Elsa wanted to laugh with joy.

 

It felt so good to say it—the greatest weight off her, a pressure that she’d never known was there in the first place. A very deep sense of relief followed, the kind that was so acute that it bordered on pain to experience it.

 

“I love you,” Elsa repeated, this time testing the words, savoring the way they rolled off her tongue. Would she ever taste anything as sweet as this? “I love—”

 

Anna pulled her down and crushed their lips together, as though she was greedy for the words, impatient enough to drag them out of Elsa. The kiss was fierce and a little bruising, eliciting a burning thrill down Elsa’s spine that had her wrapping her arms around Anna’s hips as if her wife was Elsa’s only anchor to the world.

 

When Anna finally released her, she stared up at Elsa with eyes that looked almost angry, if it weren’t for her next words.

 

“What took you so long?” Anna demanded.

 

“I don’t know,” Elsa answered honestly. She frowned before her mind caught up. “Wait, you _knew_?”

 

Anna at least had the grace to look guilty. “I did.”

 

“When? When did you—god, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know, I thought—” Elsa looked distinctly aggrieved and sighed. “Your mother did say it was… painfully obvious.”

 

To everybody but herself, evidently. Though her issue had been that she hadn’t _wanted_ to admit it, most especially to herself. What point had there been in coveting something she’d never have? It was as useful as wishing ice magic away.

 

“It was after our fight. I knew then,” Anna clarified.

 

Elsa gave her a dubious look. “When we were yelling at each other and I was being vicious? Did your horse kick you in the head and you remember it differently than I do?”

 

“No, silly. I just realized _why_ you did the things you did.”

 

“You deduced it from…” Elsa trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “God, that’s just—”

 

Anna interrupted before Elsa could decide whether she should feel more embarrassed about the matter. “Now, answer my question about why you took so long.”

 

Elsa shifted her weight from one foot to the other and, foolishly, wanted to grumble. “Well, we’re both aware that I’m an idiot when it comes to things like this. But I love you and I’m not letting you go, even if you change your mind and decide you’d prefer that Southern Isles prince, who your mother said had the personality of a rock anyway—”

 

“You talked to my mother about Hans?” Anna interrupted, sounding vaguely outraged.

 

Elsa tried not to glare. She was no more pleased by the way Anna addressed the prince—her almost-fiance, a dark thought rumbled—by his given name now than she had been before. “Yes. Do you find this offensive?”

 

“I—well, no, not really, but you didn’t have to ask my _mother_ about him. I would have told you if you had asked.”

 

“I do not entertain a secret desire to talk about your suitors,” Elsa said, just barely keeping the sneer off her face, but not the shadow of it out of her voice.

 

“In any case, your mother told me plenty. You apparently have poor taste in men. She said I’m better.” She knew she was being insufferably smug about it, but it would serve to distract Anna. Elsa lifted a brow up at her, all but daring her wife to say otherwise.

 

Narrowing her eyes, Anna opened her mouth, then decided against it. Instead, Anna leaned in for a kiss and sank her teeth lightly into Elsa’s lower lip.

 

“You’re not a man,” Anna murmured against Elsa’s mouth. “And you definitely don’t have the personality of a rock either—god, you do bait me so much that I wonder if I’m a pond fish instead of your wife. I actually think I have excellent taste, but if you think otherwise, maybe I should reconsider your annulment offer. ”

 

Elsa’s head swam while her knees quivered. She would never get tired of Anna’s kisses, not ever. “I won’t let you,” she managed to say. “You’re married to me and it’s too late to change your mind now.”

 

“And if I protested? Called you a tyrant and all sorts of abuse about you to anybody who would listen?”

 

Elsa felt more than saw Anna’s smirk. She gripped Anna’s hips in a firmer hold and bent down until her mouth was over Anna’s ear.

 

“Then I would do my utmost to convince you otherwise, your highness,” Elsa promised, her breath warm and silky. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said it’d be—how did you put it? That it’d be ‘so good.’”

 

Had she said that? Anna couldn’t recall much beyond her own name at the moment. She grasped at Elsa’s shoulders, fingers digging into the cloth, just as her eyes fell on the wall behind Elsa. Of course, her memory helpfully recollected the passionate encounter from the erotic novel.

 

Anna shuddered, torn between pushing Elsa to that wall and just standing there to let Elsa do as she pleased. Both were equally appealing, especially when Elsa began to lavish open-mouthed kisses on her ear.

 

“Elsa,” Anna gasped. Each kiss was destroying every thought in her brain; she knew she had left something important out and Elsa abruptly—and wonderfully—acting upon her desires was _not_ helping. “Wait, wait! I can’t—I can’t think when you do that. Give me a second.”

 

Elsa chuckled, low and satisfied, and pulled back obligingly. “What is it?”

 

Anna teetered on her feet and clutched at Elsa to keep from falling. Elsa chuckled again and held her up, walking Anna backward until the backs of her thighs collided with the edge of the desk. Without thinking, Anna sat and slid back on the smooth surface while Elsa stood before her parted legs. A pale hand rested on Anna’s knee, the touch both light and arousing.

 

Elsa’s eyes were dark and heated, her lips glistening in the light. “You were saying?” She prompted, her voice husky. 

 

Anna wanted to groan at the sight. Every part of Elsa read pure want—the intent focus of her eyes, the angle of her body toward Anna, even her hands: the one on her knee was trailing fingers down to caress the back of her calf while the other still cupped Anna’s hip in a distinctively possessive manner.

 

No one had ever looked at her that way before. Not Hans, not any of her suitors—no one but Elsa had ever aimed such a look of naked desire at her and every nerve in her body was responding to it eagerly. Anything Elsa asked, she wanted to give it. She was both abashed and thrilled at the thought of their first encounter in the study and on a _desk_ , no less—not because she didn’t want it, but at how _willing_ she was to do it, if Elsa wanted it.

 

If Elsa asked, in that same husky voice, for Anna to draw up her skirts and spread her legs like that woman in the French book, Anna would have complied with shameless rapidity. She had assumed their consummation would involve a bed, but the more she thought about it, the more Anna realized that she really was not opposed to the idea of it being done here, and now, especially if Elsa kept looking at her like that.

 

“Anna, if you don’t say anything soon, I’m going to kiss you,” Elsa warned.

 

That snapped her attention back. “We need to talk about how you feel about me.”

 

“Yes, we can discuss it all you like, though I’m not sure what else there is to say since you knew all along anyway, but does it need to be _now_?”

 

“Just this morning, you were fretting yourself into old age about sex and now you’re ready to toss my skirts up in your _study_?” Anna squawked, more than a little indignant. Further criticism died in her mouth when Elsa’s eyes dropped down to her skirts with renewed interest.

 

“Elsa!” Anna hissed, for lack of anything better to say. She almost clapped her hands over her skirt in a ridiculous show of modesty, but stopped herself in time. “What are you _thinking_?”

 

“I’m trying very hard not to,” Elsa replied with surprising candor. “When I am thinking, I start worrying and fretting, as you said, and the last thing I want to do is brood myself into an agonizing stupor. I do excel at that, you have to admit.”

 

Rather than agreeing—it really was an irrefutable truth that did not need confirmation—Anna cupped the back of Elsa’s neck, her hand slipping under long blonde hair, and pulled the queen down until their foreheads bumped together. She gathered herself, pushing the shimmering desire back. Then Anna took a deep breath and, trusting her instincts, leapt. “I love you, too, Elsa.”

 

Elsa went very, very still as silence stretched between them. Anna heard Elsa swallow. 

 

“Is that so?” Elsa said with forced lightness. That was the best she could manage when she was so off-kilter and dazed. Anna’s meaning was unmistakable—there was no uncertainty or doubt about what kind of love she was talking about. No “as a friend” or “because we’re married and I’m obligated to say these things.”

 

Anna meant it in the same way that Elsa had. Anna _meant_ it.

 

Her palms went damp while her body was swathed in both heat and cold and overlaid with shaky nerves and terror. For a horrifying moment, Elsa thought she had misheard, that everything that had just happened was a conjured dream from fever-induced delirium, and that she was actually dying and unaware of it—and then she would be cruelly jerked awake for either a life of misery or blissful oblivion.

 

She was being melodramatic in her mental hysteria, Elsa realized. Just how _did_ Anna tolerate her? Probably because Elsa knew well enough when to keep her trap shut during moments like these, settling on gross understatements rather than exposing her absurdities. Anna was right—she truly would fret herself into an early grave at this rate.

 

Anna cupped Elsa’s jaw with her other hand, peering into Elsa’s eyes as she would a restive mare. “Yes, I think so. If I’m not already in love with you, then I’m falling more in love with you every day. I’ll catch up to you soon.”

 

“‘Catch up?’ What do you mean?”

 

“I think you’ve loved me for longer than you’re letting on while I’ve only just started. But I know where I’ll end up, and there’s nowhere else that I would want to be than with you. I didn’t say anything earlier because I wasn’t sure how I felt and I didn’t know if you were ever going to say anything at all, much less told me what _you_ wanted. I didn’t know what was the right thing to do, but once you said it, it was…” Anna laughed softly, still surprised at herself. “Well, it was a very good hint that I needed.”

 

“My god,” Elsa muttered, reeling. She buried her face in Anna’s neck, arms hugging the younger woman tightly. Tears were crept up at the back of her eyes, which would have stung her pride if she weren’t so relieved and happy. Nonetheless, she would not cry on Anna, and fought tears with deep breaths and the solid support of Anna’s body. “Anna, I don’t deserve you.”

 

Anna rubbed Elsa’s back soothingly. “Maybe not, but your father did decide to inflict me upon you, so you’ll just have to put up with me for the rest of your life. A hard burden, isn’t it?”

 

Elsa gave a surprised laugh and drew back. “Yes, I’ll have the remainder of my years to ruminate on what I could have done to deserve you. How lucky I am that we’re both young and I’ll have plenty of time to ponder the question.”

 

Anna grinned. “Maybe it’s a rhetorical one.”

 

“Maybe,” Elsa agreed. She simply looked at Anna and traced the line of her cheek with a thumb. “You know, Anna, you might find me dumbfounded about this sometimes. Or intolerably smug. I didn’t ever think—” She paused, her expression turning rueful. “I never thought things would have turned out the way they have.”

 

“I didn’t, either. Everything’s just been so… unexpected. In a very good way.” Anna tugged at a lock of flaxen hair draped over Elsa’s shoulder. She had always admired Elsa’s hair, but there was something sensual about it now. “I never thought about women before you. In that way.”

 

Elsa was momentarily speechless. “I’ve never thought of anyone else at all,” she blurted out before she realized what she was saying.

 

Anna stared. “No one?”

 

Elsa shook her head. “I’ve never—” Wanted to think of anyone else; that would have made her life a great deal easier if she could have, but that was just as futile as the ice magic. “You were enough for me,” she finished with a faint blush.

 

Anna’s lips parted before she realized she was gaping. She knew Elsa was telling the truth, which only compounded her astonishment—no one at all? She must have been quiet for too long because Elsa’s face grew redder. 

 

“I’m sorry, is that strange?” Elsa asked, trying not to sound anxious.

 

“What? No, that’s not—no. It’s not, but really, no one else? Not even someone who’d caught your eye?”

 

Elsa looked even more uncomfortable. “I’ve never been as close to anyone as I am with you,” she said defensively. “Why would I think of anyone else that way?”

 

Why indeed. When put that way, it did sound like a very silly question. Anna pushed herself off the desk and took a moment to gather herself, smoothing her skirts out. When she was done, she looked up at Elsa with a slight smile. “We’ve been very lucky, haven’t we?”

 

Elsa tilted her head as she considered the question. “Do you mean in the position that we’ve found ourselves in? Married and so very…” She exhaled, the sound equal parts surprised and amused. “Mutually fond of each other?”

 

Anna gave a look of ironic affront. “Yes, how _fond_ we are of each other. Was that in our marriage vows? ‘To… _be fond of_ and to cherish, till death do us part?’”

 

Elsa grinned back, delighted. Instead of answer, she seized Anna in a hug and held her tightly, her breath settling over Anna’s ear.

 

“Yes,” Elsa whispered. “I think we’ve been very lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the prolonged delay. For anyone who wants news on chapter updates, you can check out my tumblr page: http://requetude.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks to somonastic and Rebecca Keyes for their help beta-ing this chapter!


	20. Chapter 20 excerpt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the entirety of the first scene of AFA Ch. 20. Any errors are mine as this was not beta’d thoroughly (unless you count being one and a half years late long enough for me to get my shit together). I am sorry for the delay :[
> 
> I initially did not want to update just with an excerpt, but I realize that I am horribly late and my readers deserve to see some progress, so here it is!

“Yes, I think we’ve been very lucky.” Elsa’s smile was slight, but no less luminous.

“But it wasn’t luck,” Anna murmured. Their gazes met and held, a long moment passing as they simply studied each other. The expression in dark blue eyes eventually became quizzical, but Elsa seemed content to allow the pleasant silence to stretch.

So very pretty and beloved, that face, even if its owner sometimes tested her patience relentlessly like a determined cat. Anna could feel herself softening like chocolate held too long. Even the thought of Elsa annoying her with one of her patently ridiculous notions only elicited a spurt of deep affectionate fondness, though she was sure the sentiment was not going to be permanent.

But Elsa was all hers: gorgeous face, sharp tongue, aggravating tendencies. And the certainty of it warmed her down to her toes.

“How could it have been luck?” Anna leaned back on her heels and gave in to the urge to sigh happily. “I think your father knew that if he didn’t do something, you’d dither endlessly and never get anything done. He saved you a great deal of agony, if you think about it.”

“You make it sound like he did it out of exasperation on my behalf. Like I need to be...managed.” There was a twinge of affront, just enough to make Elsa’s lip curl.

Ah, that pride. Anna wanted to kiss it right off Elsa’s face, but she enjoyed teasing the queen almost as much as she did kissing, so Anna simply tucked her tongue firmly in cheek. “You don’t think so?”

“I fear I do not share this opinion with you,” Elsa replied, her eyes narrowing just the slightest at her.

“But I know you so well. I’d bet there would have been enough dithering and handwringing to have Arendelle grinding to a standstill. Really, we should be thankful for Uncle Alexander’s foresight.” This was accompanied with a very sage nod.

“My word, the cheek,” the queen murmured with a cocked brow and crossed arms. Her tone turned haughty as she drew herself up with impressive majesty, rather like a cross peacock. “I think you forget who you’re married to.”

The pointed tone made her lips twitch before Anna could catch herself. “Oh, but think of who I _would_ have married if it hadn’t been for your father!” Anna gave a theatrical sweep of her arm, nearly backhanding Elsa in the chin as she did so. “I’d have twelve extra brothers and God only knows how many sisters to contend with! Could you imagine it?” Anna posed grandly.

Elsa’s eyes rolled in magnificent fashion. “Praise be that I had the good sense to be an only child if you cannot stand the idea of in-laws. Not only that, but I should be congratulated for keeping you off the marriage market for the well-being of all ignorant and overbred princes. Truly, my generosity knows no bounds even though you evidently credit the grace of my father for my sacrifice.” Elsa laid a hand upon her own chest, the vaguely offended expression on her face belying the wounded tone. “I thought I had earned your affections, but this is apparently not the case.”

“So you would have married me if he hadn’t arranged it? Charity case and all?” Anna asked with a hiked brow.

Elsa opened her mouth to give some pithy retort, then promptly shut it and looked away. “You know I’m not serious about that.” It was delivered so softly that Anna blinked at the abrupt change. “But you are right. I wouldn’t have married you on my own. And if we hadn’t married, you’d probably now be on some sunny island with…” Elsa deliberately trailed off with an exaggerated display of distaste.

“A well-mannered _and_ handsome overbred prince,” Anna said with humor, entirely unoffended. “But he really was easy on the eyes.” As though this was a great loss to be mourned. It was such obvious bait that Elsa didn’t even bother responding—the queen simply sent another look that said very clearly what she thought of that. _I am also quite good-looking_ , it suggested, and with enough confidence to make Anna grin with delight, utterly charmed.

“I had no idea you’d become so shallow,” Elsa said with wide eyes and feigned shock.

“How else could I tolerate you if not for my weakness for good looks?” Anna chortled, covering her mouth when Elsa’s eyes threatened to roll again. Of course, Elsa wouldn’t allow _that_ to go unpunished. Anna tried to dodge her, but Elsa was faster, seizing Anna’s nose in a firm pinch. She made a noise caught somewhere between a snort and a hiccup, almost choking when she tried to inhale.

“Elsa!” But Anna was already laughing again as she swatted her hand away. She hadn’t gotten her nose pinched like that since she was a _child_. It was so easy for them to fall back to this lightness that it made her heart ache, especially when Elsa looked at her with such obvious affection.

“I also don’t remember you being so irredeemably impudent when you were younger,” Elsa mused, humor glinting in her eyes. “I’m not sure you ever needed me to save you from your ardent suitors.”

Elsa was right, of course—Anna hadn’t needed saving, but she was still glad that it was Elsa before her now. The thought of never knowing what they’d have lost had Elsa not chosen to renew their engagement drew a sharp pang of sorrow.

But Elsa was hers now, a fact that Anna was sure to relish for some time. And if love was going to make her soft and possibly a bit daft, she certainly wasn’t going to fight it. Anna leaned back on the desk and reached out to tug her wife closer. Elsa immediately complied, bending down to brush her lips against a temple as her arms encircled Anna’s shoulders. The princess exhaled, her forehead resting against Elsa’s shoulder, her hands clasped around a slim waist. They stood together and simply enjoyed the shared intimacy. There could be nothing more perfect, Anna thought, than this.

“You know, I don’t think Kristoff would have liked Hans,” Anna finally said.

“Oh?” Elsa sounded disinterested, but they both knew her attention was rapt. She even nuzzled Anna a bit, leaning her cheek against copper hair as though to encourage this line of thought. Anna had to suppress a giggle and decided to indulge her.

“Mhm. Well, I doubt Kristoff would have liked any of my suitors, but _he’s_ not the one who has to get married,” Anna said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Someday he will, but he doesn’t get a say about who _I’d_ get shackled to.”

“And I thought you were eager to get married and leave the nest,” Elsa mused. They parted when the clock in the corner tolled the hour. Anna slid her hand under Elsa’s elbow and they walked together to the Queen’s chambers before she answered. “I was, but the people I met at balls were...not really what I expected.” Anna paused again. “I did wonder if I’d have liked them better if you were there,” she admitted.

Elsa swiveled her head, surprised. “You did?”

“Sometimes. We’ve never attended a ball together, you know. I wasn’t old enough to go the last time I was in Arendelle.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said after a moment, the regret evident in her voice. “Though if I’d been present, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to socialize. I’d probably monopolize you.”

Anna chuckled. “I’d trade all the dances and suitors for you, definitely.”

Elsa looked startled, but pleased. “I wish I could have been there with you. And if we are going to reflect on all the things we’ve missed, I doubt I’d have been much fun at balls. My...reputation and the fact that my father was usually present did not make make for many brave conversationalists. I was certainly not the life of a party like you were.”

It was Anna’s turn to be surprised. “How did you—?” Then she realized that she already knew the answer.

“Calhoun,” Elsa confirmed. “Since he was already going about the whole suitors business, he listened to the rumors about you as well.”

Calhoun was also a reminder of the blackmail material that still lay in Elsa’s study, and brought back the uneasy feeling associated with it. Elsa seemed to sense it and explained, “Calhoun didn’t spy on you if that’s what you’re concerned about. I made sure he wouldn’t, once I knew what he was about. He just... “ Elsa’s sigh was pure exasperation. “He has an ear for that sort of thing. Being in the right place at the right time, as he likes to say. I think he did it to prod me along about our engagement since I was doing my best to not think about it then.”

“I see,” was all Anna could say, distracted by the reminder of blackmail in Elsa’s study.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, mistaking the cause for Anna’s ambivalence. “I would never have allowed him to in the first place, and I did threaten to lend some truth to those rumors about freezing my enemies to dump into the fjord if he continued.”

“No, I’m not angry about that, Elsa,” Anna sighed, deciding that she was going to get rid of the blackmail at the next opportunity. Elsa had given it to her to do as she pleased, and it would certainly please her to dispose of it. And perhaps she ought to have a talk with Calhoun about his more disreputable habits. “You didn’t want to hear about my gossip?” Anna asked, interrupting the next wave of apologies.

Elsa stared at her. “I—well, I suppose, I wouldn’t oppo—wait, _what?_ ”

“Oh, come on, Elsa. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to know what I was doing in Corona. Everybody likes to hear about gossip about everybody else.”

Elsa attempted to look aloof. “I would never,” she said unconvincingly.

“You liar,” Anna cheerfully accused. “Don’t pretend you’re above it.”

“I most certainly did _not_ seek out gossip! And besides, the vast majority of gossip isn’t even _true_. That’s why it’s gossip in the first place.”

“How would you know if you don’t hear it?” Anna asked, grinning when Elsa huffed in response. “So what gossip did you hear from Calhoun?”

Elsa seemed poised to deny her even that until she gave in with a defeated sigh. “The typical things you hear about a popular debutante, I suppose. Very pretty, dances well, laughs at the right things. An easy manner. Spends a questionable amount of time with a certain Southern Isles prince.”

“That is surprisingly accurate,” Anna said after a moment of consideration. “I also sound really boring.”

Elsa smiled in sympathy. “Would you have preferred the salacious kind of gossip?”

“My parents would never have let happen, but that _would_ have been exciting,” Anna sighed wistfully.

“I’m sure you were the source of envy all the same,” Elsa reassured.

“Hardly,” Anna scoffed. “I never got any grand gestures, or had awful poetry written about me. I got along well with most people, but I hardly want to be known for just…dancing well, and being easy-going.”

Elsa slid her eyes over and took in Anna’s disappointment. “Well, if it’s poetry you want, I may be able to oblige you,” she graciously offered.

Anna grinned up at her, instantly gleeful. “Will it be atrocious?”

“Oh, almost certainly. I have always longed to compare your eyes to the stars, your lips to roses, your teeth to pearls—”

“Oh, no!” Anna shushed, giggling too much to stop Elsa.

“—and your eyelashes to...to…” Elsa’s brow furrowed in concentration.

“To?” Anna prompted as they arrived to their bedchamber.

“I cannot conjure anything suitably appalling to compare eyelashes to,” the queen confessed as she held the door open. “Forgive me.”

“And I thought you were well-read,” Anna sniffed as she fluttered the neglected eyelashes. She flounced into the bedchamber, nose sailing high as a ship’s prow. “Is it so much to ask for a few poorly assembled verses?”

“A personal failing that I regret daily,” Elsa murmured, turning to close the door after them and failed to notice Anna stopping short. The room was swathed in a soft darkness, illuminated only by the small flames flickering in the fireplace.

“Odd, it’s not so late that the fire would have burned so low already,” Elsa remarked. “Are you cold? I’ll build the fire if you are.”

Anna didn’t answer. Elsa glanced at her curiously, then at the bed, and stiffened. It was an agonizingly long time before she could summon words.

“Well,” Elsa began, her voice unusually high. She cleared her throat, reaching for dignity. “I didn’t—I didn’t tell the servants to—”

Anna had to turn her head away, a raised hand smothering a laugh. “Could you repeat yourself, Elsa? I’m not sure I caught that.”

“I didn’t do it!” Elsa expelled, the denial rushed and a tad louder than necessary. “I swear it!”

“Oh?” Anna said as benignly as she could manage. “It’s just coincidental that you confess your feelings to me not an hour ago and our marriage bed now happens to be covered with...rose petals?” Her voice cracked with mirth on the last word.

Elsa shut her eyes and pressed a hand to her own face. “Anna, do you really believe I’d do something so trite?”

“I don’t think it’s _beneath_ you, if you could somehow justify it in your mind.” Anna went to the bed and plucked a petal up to brush it over her lips. She tossed a coy glance over her shoulder, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re guilty of far worse, you know. I also find it suspicious that you _did_ just compare my lips to roses. Are you sure this wasn’t orchestrated for my benefit?”

Color flooded pale cheeks. “That was _entirely_ unrelated, Anna, I can assure you.” Elsa folded her arms and glared at an imaginary speck on the wall and at anything else but Anna, her back ramrod straight. Anna’s smile softened.

Elsa looked remarkably young at that moment, especially when she was trying to not look mortified. It made her want to simultaneously coax the embarrassment away, as well as wonder again just how Elsa would have gone about courting her like a real suitor if she’d ever worked up the nerve for it. That was certainly a thought Anna could entertain herself more with later. She decided to be merciful. “The petals are still fresh. It’s a nice gesture, don’t you think?”

“It’s not meant to be _nice_. It’s a heavy-handed reminder of my royal duty,” Elsa replied, casting her eyes heavenward. “I shall take it as a hint to do some reminding of my own to Gerda about her place in this household.”

“You _do_ need some prodding on occasion, but I think this was meant to be enjoyed, not resented.” Anna turned and settled on the edge of the bed, spreading her hands to scatter the petals over her dress. “Come here,” she commanded softly.

Up went the brows as interest glimmered just below in blue eyes. “May I inquire for what purpose, Your Highness?”

“Your royal duty, obviously. Come along now.” Anna even patted her knee expectantly.

As Elsa approached the bed, Anna tipped her head back. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

The corner of her mouth tilted. Elsa looked wonderfully playful as she considered the order. “Must I?” She asked, adopting a beleaguered tone.

Anna nodded solemnly. “You must. I am your wife and I command it.”

Elsa seemed to seriously ponder this. “Surely there are other options that may please Your Highness,” she finally said, her eyes limpid as a fresh spring pool.

Anna arced an imperious brow, a gesture she’d learned to fend off overly forward suitors. “Thoughts of insubordination are just as deadly as the act,” she declared. It was something Kristoff’s army friends used to mockingly say when they were well into their cups, originating from a particularly disliked commander.

The corners of Elsa’s lips trembled before she could smooth them into a more earnest line. “I wouldn’t ever dare stoop to that, Your Highness. If I may offer another solution?”

Anna pouted. “Is a kiss so much to ask?” She’d meant to say that in the way spoiled nobility responded when a request was being refused—a dash of incredulity with a very healthy dollop of entitlement—but it came out a bit plaintive and faintly wounded for she did actually want a kiss.

And that did it. Elsa’s face softened in a way that suddenly struck Anna as deeply familiar—how had she never noticed that Elsa had always looked at her that way?—before Elsa had bent down and cupped her cheek to oblige, silvery locks falling in a graceful curtain around them.

It began as a light brush of lips, almost tentative in careful exploration, until Anna lifted her chin up to deepen it, smoothing her hands up Elsa’s sides to the bottom of her ribcage. She reveled in the answering sharp intake of breath and, feeling particularly adventurous, lightly scraped her fingernails along the outline of ribs through cloth. Elsa shook and dropped her forehead to rest against Anna’s, their noses brushing, and her lips parted in a pant.

Warm breath ghosted over Anna’s lips like a delicious caress that she had to bite her lip to contain a moan.

“Anna…” Elsa whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know how you do this to me. I’ve never…I’ve never wanted anyone as I do you.”

It was wholly gratifying hearing that said out loud. It lit a fire in her belly and boldness in her movements as a smile bloomed on her lips. Anna grazed her mouth along Elsa’s jaw line and said in a remarkably steady voice, “Well, that means that you are also shallow, falling for my excellent looks like that.”

It took a moment for her to react, but it had Elsa leaning back with a surprised laugh. “I suppose we are perfectly suited in our material preferences,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling. “You are...” Elsa trailed off, her voice and features becoming tender. “I do think you are very beautiful, you know.”

There was that happiness again, so intense that Anna felt almost stupid with it. She was even blushing a bit, as though she’d just been paid her first compliment at her debut ball.

“Do tell.” Anna felt absurdly shy, even lifting a hand to tuck copper hair back behind her ear to conceal it. “A girl could always use more flattery, even with your limited supply of poor poetry. Care to try again about the eyelashes?”

Elsa didn’t say anything at first. She simply gazed at Anna until her eyes lowered. For several exciting heartbeats, Anna thought she was staring at her bosom until she realized Elsa was actually looking at her lap, which was even more thrilling.

“Do you actually like the flower petals?” Elsa suddenly asked.

Anna blinked. “I—what?” She looked down. She’d forgotten about the petals that she’d strewn over herself, engrossed as she’d been in kisses.

“The flower petals. Do you like them?” Elsa looked quite serious.

Too confused to ponder the question, Anna answered truthfully. “I think it’s sweet, but maybe a little too much.” Suspicion struck. “Wait, why? Did you actually have flower petals brought in?”

“No, of course not. I just… wondered. At your mood, that is. I thought, perhaps…” There was no finish to that sentence, but Anna knew. She patted Elsa’s hip as though she was a well-behaved mare.

“I’d probably like it better when I was younger,” she confided.

“Because you are now older and far too wise to indulge in such things,” Elsa retorted, but she smiled back. 

Anna chuckled. “It’s romantic and I do appreciate it. Don’t say that you don’t enjoy it, just a little.”

“I’d prefer it if my staff didn’t involve themselves in our business. And I find it more cheeky than romantic.” She glanced away, her cheeks flushing very slightly. “Gerda had originally planned to do something like this, you know. Flower petals for our wedding night. I told her no.”

“Because you’d already planned on banishing me to the queen’s quarters?” Anna said mildly, only half-joking.

Elsa whipped her head back with a ready denial, her eyes wide. “No! I never planned that, truly. I didn’t think you’d want—well, I had no idea what you’d want, but I wanted to be prepared in case you found such a thing in...poor taste.”

“Trite?”

“More like presumptuous. Implying some level of expectation about what was…supposed to happen,” Elsa muttered, coloring faintly.

The imperious brow returned. “You are the queen of Arendelle. Isn’t it your God-given right to be the most presumptuous person in the kingdom?” The sarcasm was layered thick enough to choke an ox. Elsa scowled and extricated herself to cross her arms in what Anna recognized as the beginnings of a sulk.

“Perhaps I really should have entirely disregarded your feelings on the matter,” she declared.

“Not as though that’d have been difficult as you never set eyes on my face until our wedding day anyway.” Anna flicked a petal off her arm. It floated through the air like a particularly lazy bumblebee before it attached itself to the front of Elsa’s dress.

They stared at it mutely for a moment.

Elsa made a face. "You are a child."

Anna grinned and flicked another petal at her. "And you should learn to have fun. All fun and no play—"

"I'm going to go change," Elsa declared. She brushed the petals off and, in a fit of devilry, seized a handful and tossed them on Anna's head. Turning on her heel, she fled with Anna's rich laughter echoing in her wake, humor of her own bubbling at the back of her throat.


End file.
